


Strange Love

by hahagirl727



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Gotham (TV)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kidnapping, Thriller
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-04-25 21:58:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 42,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4978093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hahagirl727/pseuds/hahagirl727
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“You are what? Seventeen?” Her eyes raked over Harleen’s appearance. Pigtails tied in loose red ribbons matching her blouse that was pulled just a bit lower than dress code requirements. Her cheap lab coat that must have been scratchy as she shifted every second or so in discomfort. To top it all off her long legs were covered by jeans… Of all things… “These men will eat you for breakfast. One or two of them will enjoy it too."</i>
</p>
<p>Harleen Quinzel takes up an internship program at Arkham Aslyum offered up by her high school. If nothing else it could boost her already secured scholarship to Gotham City University. Jerome Valeska is looking at a life sentence in the facility, but if he knows anything that won't last very long. Two paths that are entirely different coverage in a manner that will prove deadly for Gotham.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. we paint white roses red

**Author's Note:**

> Ok since this story is just starting I'm going to be super annoying and put a shit ton of notes here.
> 
> **On the Joker and Harley:** I in no way condone the relationship between Harley Quinn and the Joker, it's built on lies and manipulation. Not to mention that is abusive and destructive. However, it is incredibly interesting to study and I feel like Gotham missed an opportunity to portray the demise of Harleen into her supervillian counterpart. Don't even get me started on the Jerome thing (rip little guy)... I think there's a lot of compelling material with these characters and how they could have a connection that feeds into their future. 
> 
> **On Harley:** There are many ways to portray Harleen and I have found myself enjoying every single one of them because we all can agree that Harley is a smart cookie. In here Harley is a lot younger therefore very naive which makes her more susceptible to Jerome, but also with her youth comes a stronger moral guidance and ability to fight for herself and what she wants. As far as her appearance go I say picture whoever you like as I don't have a particular actress in mind.
> 
> **On Jerome:** I know he's TECHNICALLY dead and TECHNICALLY not the Joker, but who cares poo on the Gotham writers for making that choice bc Cameron Monaghan is a god at acting and I can't see anyone else playing the character. There's a certain type of charm that just draws you in and refuses to let go. So yes he is not dying in this fic and he is the Joker bc it would break my heart to say otherwise.

_You think I'm crazy, you think I'm gone_   
_So what if I'm crazy? All the best people are_   
_And I think you're crazy too, I know you're gone_   
_That's probably the reason that we get along_

_**\- Melanie Martinez, Mad Hatter** _

Dr. Penelope Young was perfectly aware that Arkham was relatively short staffed. The reopening of the house for the criminally insane plus Detective Gordon’s heroic arrests should have inspired many to take up the practice of psychiatric care. At first there were plenty of men and women looking to make a change in the inmates. To make a breakthrough with these individuals would mean an incredible career boost. Most of them wanted to tackle the hardest cases head first and Dr. Young had let them. Everyone needed a lesson in humility on their first day. She remembered her own quiet vividly when she attempted to council a particularly nasty man who murdered his entire family. She still had scars from that encounter.   

However, not every person at Arkham was looking to hurt everyone around them. There were some that maintained most of their sanity and were incarcerated for smaller crimes such as public disturbance (it wasn’t shocking to see that this was the most popular activity in Gotham). They did not need the harsh therapy or isolation that Arkham was built for. Thus, they were soon released upon the streets with no other use. It was most likely that they would be seen within the bars again, but the violence of Blackgate proved to be their future.

No, Arkham was not for these types. It was for men and women like Richard Sionis who had murdered twenty five people in some kind of superiority tantrum or Robert Greenwood who ate a dozen women with bacon on the side. There were daily processes that were set to keep them in line. Therapy, medication, food, free time, more therapy, more medication and so on. Dr. Young had found within a short period of time that a madman did not appreciate schedules. Usually, they were dragged by the the guards to their sessions or pills were shoved down their throat. Was it sad? Of course it was, but steps needed to be taken to rehabilitation. If Dr. Young could cure at least one of these men then possibly she could be seeing the warden's chair in only a few years. To run Arkham would mean to implement any means necessary to keep Gotham clean of this filth.

Plans as Dr. Young realized were not entirely set in stone with a place like this. The young hopefuls she had employed over her time had quickly exited due to “mental stress.” It was only natural that weekly life attempts would put strain on some people. Aaron Helzinger had strangled a nurse on her third day to the point where her coma had lasted weeks. It was not the first nor the last nurse that would end up in Gotham General for such a incident. There was always a new person every day to replace the old one that had run out screaming just minutes before. It was not a job for the faint of heart, but the pay was moderate and there were many desperate for income in Gotham.

Dr. Young _needed_ employees. It was even surprising to herself when she accepted the local Gotham high school’s offer of internists to help out with files. Apparently, it would educate the hopeful doctors in their senior year on life in the field. In return their time in Arkham they would be excused from school. Dr. Young saw it as an opportunity to get them to run as far as they could from the profession. If she encountered this in high school she would have taken up cooking.

The fresh faced prospects were to line up in the lobby with the appropriate attire and badges. Well, there was only one prospect. The aspirations in Gotham began to lean more towards super criminal then doctor. The status of celebrity for characters such as the Penguin or the late Don Maroni had caused the high schools their own problems of dropouts and gang violence.

Dr. Young could almost smell the innocence of the new intern compared to the saddened visitors that resided in the waiting room. Not that there were many visitors to Arkham. Most of the inmates had killed whatever family they had. Or they refused to take on such a responsibility. This lone applicant for the Arkham Asylum Internship Program was seated next to a man with unclear eyes and grasping his walking stick with tight hands. Dr. Young immediately recognized him as the father of one of the inmates. The kindly old blind man who tried to save his son from incariation. It was almost a sweet story if the matricide and supposed devil worship didn’t factor into it. He had avoided jail time by agreeing to testify against his son and land him in Arkham for life.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Cicero?” Dr. Young asked smoothly ignoring the teen next to him.

“Please… Miss. Young… Let me see my son.  I know he’s _angry_ , but I-”

“I’m afraid we cannot do that, sir. Mr. Valeska is not in a fit state to interact with you. Especially so early after your deposition.” Dr. Young said matter of factly. Since arriving at Arkham Mr. Cicero’s son had been one of its most violent residents. Ten of his potential therapists had been reduced to sobbing messes and twelve guards had been stabbed. The echo of his laughter down the dreary halls had already become famous. Dr. Young had mentioned it was a tough job… Didn’t she?

“I’m allowed to see my son!” Mr. Cicero shouted in tune with the slam of his walking stick, causing the teen to jump.

“If you do not calm down I will have to see to security to escort you out.” There was no time to deal with a man who wasn’t even a resident. She only had an hour until her much dreaded session with a new inmate. Former socialite who killed her parents…. How lovely. “Mr. Cicero this is truly for your own good. Your son needs help and a meeting would only prove to be more problematic with his behavior.”

As far as Dr. Young was concerned nothing could possibly be done to help the little brat that had lost her so much potential staff. He was the youngest of any other in Arkham, but his reputation preceded that of the most notorious killers. Even her experienced doctors had elected to interview more “willing” patients. She remembered a former nurse had described him as a menace to society fit to rot for eternity. The boy must have found that very charming. Dr. Young had not been privileged with a meeting yet, but the mere thought of that... Cackle… Was enough to not ask.

Mr. Cicero proceeded to sigh and stood with a little effort on his part. “I’ll be back.” He growled. Maybe that’s where his kid got it….

“And I look forward to it.”

A fit of grumbling followed the blind man as he hobbled over to the doors that lead outside of Arkham. Before exiting he turned back and almost looked (if he could even do that) at the girl who was previously sitting next to him. It was almost as if he wanted to say something, but decided against it.

Dr. Young looked down the badge that hung from the girl’s lab coat. She briefly wondered if she bought it at a costume shop. “Harleen Quinzel?” She said reading the text below her picture. A blonde girl with bright blue eyes and a wide smile greeted back from the plastic shine of the card.

“Oh, you can call me Har-” The girl replied standing from the chair. Dr. Young could immediately tell she was a gymnast of some sort with the grace of her posture.

“We don’t have nicknames in here. I read what is on your badge.”

“Alright then Miss. Young.”

Dr. Young could immediately spot that her accent was thick and was not going away anytime soon. It could either be Narrows or a completely different part of  the county altogether. She made a note to keep extra painkillers in her desk. “I’m surprised you want to intern here at Arkham.”

“I’ve always had a thing for extreme personalities.” Harleen was beginning to blush. Dr. Young hoped that this wasn’t one of those girls that kept newspaper clippings of the inmates in a scrapbook with hearts around it. She’s had her fair share of “fans” looking to catch a glimpse. “You can’t deny there’s an element of glamour to these super criminals.”

“I’ll warn you right now, these are hardcore psychotics.” Dr. Young’s tone dropped. She had made enough mistakes letting the wrong people into Arkham. Breakouts were commonplace and more criminals left the site more than they entered it. She did not need some teenager going soft and letting anyone go. “Most would rather kill you then speak to you.”

Dr. Young considered her strategy. The girl was _pretty_ and a pretty girl could go a long way as far as criminals went. They would be willing to talk to someone like Harleen. Her gentle submittance to Dr. Young’s refusal to call her by a nickname could be useful. She wouldn’t be as frazzled by the dangerous ones. However, it was not in her best interest to throw the girl into the lion’s den just yet.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine, doctor.”

“You are what? Seventeen?” Her eyes raked over Harleen’s appearance. Pigtails tied in loose red ribbons matching her blouse that was pulled just a bit lower than dress code requirements. Her cheap lab coat that must have been scratchy as she shifted every second or so in discomfort. To top it all off her long legs were covered by jeans… Of all things… “These men will eat you for breakfast. One or two of them will enjoy it too. First thing’s first get those pigtails out. Many of our residents would love the opportunity to pull those out of your head.”

“I thought I was just organizing files.” Harleen complained, but she obeyed tucking the ribbons into her coat pocket and tying her hair into a tight fit bun.

“You are, but who knows how long it will be before you encounter anyone. It is most likely that I will need an assistant to take notes during patient interviews.” She glanced down at her clipboard that held Harleen’s application form. “It says here you are on the Gotham high school cheerleading team. Will that conflict with our schedule?”

“Oh no ma’am! Practice starts after my time here.” She delivered a big smile. “I’m also on the gymnastics team, but we already got to Nationals.”

“Hmmmm.” Dr. Young mused turning on her heel and taking off towards the hall leading to the filing cabinets. With luck the girl would follow after her and sure enough she did. “Every day you will report to the lobby and wait for an official to let you inside.”

“Lobby, official, inside.” Harleen repeated to herself. She frowned a little as if thinking something over. “That man wanted to see his son really bad didn’t he? Why didn’t you let him?”

Dr. Young stopped almost causing the poor girl to bump into her back. “That man’s son had murdered his mother and proceeded to laugh about it the whole way here. I don’t think he’s stopped laughing about it. Then his father puts him in here to save his own skin and any smart person would realize that any contact would result in his death.”

Harleen’s face twisted to something that was akin to shock or was it terror? Better to break the idealism early. “These are not tortured souls crying out for love and acceptance. They are murderers, rapists, and thieves and you are nothing but another potential victim to them.” She said in a clipped manner.

Harleen paused before nodding slowly as if tasting each of Dr. Young’s words. “I only meant he looked so sad… He kept staring at me as if he had something to say, ya know?”

“Maybe he knows you from somewhere.”

“I heard he used to predict the future at the circus…” She smiled as if ready to tell a joke of some kind. “Maybe he saw me in the future or something.”

Dr. Young rolled her eyes. There was no time for trivial matters such as this. She needed to get Harleen to her designated space before her interview with… Betty… Barbara… She couldn’t remember.

She picked up her pace down the hallway only decorated with doors that lead to offices. Harleen scooted along with her every step of the way. “The only way to the filing cabinet where you will spend your time is past the common hall. It is blocked by bars and guards but this is where they will be.” She did not need to specify. She knew exactly who would be sitting closest to peak through the bars to catch a look of a new inmate or a doctor. Valeska, Sionis, Dobkins, Helzinger, and Greenwood the true worst of the worst in Arkham. They had formed their little gang quickly possibly by ranking up how many offenses each had done while already imprisoned. Sionis looked to be the leader but knowing anything about Valeska’s behavior that wouldn’t last. “You do not speak to them or look at them or even think about them.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, doc.” Harleen said a smirk creeping across her lips.

“And none of… That.”

The smirk was almost snapped out of existence and the only thing that remained was a truly professional neutral expression. “So, no smiling either?”

“Trust me, after you meet these people you won’t want to smile.”


	2. drink sangria in the park

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harleen encounters her first real taste of Arkham life.

_Oh, it's such a perfect day_   
_I'm glad I spent it with you_   
_Oh, such a perfect day_   
_You just keep me hanging on_   
_You just keep me hanging on_

_**\- Lou Reed, Perfect Day** _

The white hot feeling in Harleen’s belly had been eating away at her almost all day. She could barely consume her breakfast that her mother had left for her along with a good luck note. She wasn’t that well acquainted with nerves after excelling at everything she had done in the past five years. Gymnastics had been a roaring success with Gotham City College already eyeing her for their team and cheerleading only enhanced her skills. However, her interests did not lie in the athletic arts.  She could almost see her future stretched out before her as a world class acrobat only for her career to fizzle out before the age of twenty five. No, Harleen Quinzel was not going to _fizzle out_ ever.

The Arkham program was the perfect entrance to her budding psychology interest. The opportunity to be face to face with the men and women who had graced the Gotham news daily. There was the sincere wish to help within Harleen, but the ambition rocked inside her like a torrent. The amount of books she would be able to write or deals she would place if any one of them would give up their secrets to her.

The sound of voices echoing down the hall signaled that the were close to where most of the patients were. She noticed the muscles in Dr. Young’s back tense up and wondered if she should carry herself a bit higher. The need to look professional caused her to bite her cheeks to keep a face of stone. She wanted to be someone that could handle this situation not a scared girl that would run crying into the corner at the first sign of trouble. Harleen was certain that’s what Dr. Young thought her to be.

The pace came to an abrupt stop in front of a small holding cell that could barely fit a broom let alone a person. Yet there sat a blonde woman with a demeanor that practically screamed out for attention. She was currently clacking her white heels together and fiddling with sunglasses that looked to be more expensive than Harley’s college fund. She remembered reading about this woman in the paper. Was it Beatrice or Betty?

“Barbara,” Dr. Young said in a soothed tone. _Ah, Barbara that was it._ “I’m Dr. Penelope Young and welcome to Arkham.”

“Yeah whatever when do I get out of here?” She lowered her sunglasses to proceed with the conversation. Harley noticed there were prominent dark circles. Even murderers had nightmares.

Dr. Young bristled with irritation. This was a woman easily bothered and with no patience for any attitude. Harleen almost felt sorry for anyone who would disobey her, but after all they were criminals. They were born to disobey. “You will not be leaving your holding cell until the proper guard can escort you to our introduction interview.”

Barbara clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “Let’s just be quick then. I killed my parents because they made me very… very… sad. And what’s a girl to do when she’s so sad?” Her bottom lip poked out in an attempt to look cartoonish. Harley would have laughed if Dr. Young had not sucked every ounce of humor from the situation.

“Save it for our time alone.” With that she turned on her heel forcing Harleen to take off after her. This was not what she expected from doctors expected to care for the patients here. The cold removed way Dr. Young treated Barbara. Maybe what the girl needed was a kind hand not more distance. However, she knew better then to comment on it.

She tried to will herself not to look through the bars as the ramblings of the men reached her ears. Dr. Young’s shoes proved  to be a welcome distraction to keep her from giving in. She had been warned that these men would kill her and before any secrets were to be given she had to stay safe. Biding her time was the smartest possible option. Let trust build instead of rushing into it.

“Look at what we got here!” A rough voice broke through the pounding in Harley’s eardreams. “Doc Young brought us some fresh girlie pie!” This was accompanied by laughter and snarls.

Harleen could feel her cheeks going red and her skin prickled with fear. If not for the bars that separated them these men would destroy her in a single swoop. She wanted to be in the safety of isolation with Dr. Young. The hallway couldn’t last forever soon enough she’d be in her filing cabinet and not have to face what she thought she was ready for. She had studied and read a many number of books before her acceptance into the program. She was positive that nothing could crack her. This was an entirely wrong assumption considering the fact that one comment had already flustered her.

“Dr. Young?” A male voice and apparently a trustworthy one as the shoes in front of Harleen stopped moving. She looked up to find a man in an Arkham Guard's uniform whispering with the doctor. This halted their journey right dead smack in the middle of the common hall with the worst in all of Gotham.

Despite everything Dr. Young had said Harleen lifted her eyes from the shoes to the stylish slacks. What harm would it do to look? Her gaze landed on her shoulder then drifted over to the bars. The hall was only occupied by tables and a few assorted cards. No one seemed that interested in playing and most of the residents were turned to look at her. The last thing Harley wanted was eye contact so she kept her gaze roving anywhere but into the eyes of these individuals.

“Ah come on babe aren’t ya gonna talk to us?” That voice again. Harley couldn’t help it and her eyes followed the harsh sound to land upon a man that she recognized as the Gotham City Cannibal. Dr. Young was not kidding when she mentioned they would eat her for breakfast.

“Knock it off Robert the girl doesn’t want to talk.” The older gentleman sitting next to Robert had bothered to look up from his extensive book to examine Harley. His squinting must indicate poor eyesight and if it were ever to be face to face Harleen knew to aim for the blind spots. However, as soon as he took interest he then became bored and his scrutiny returned to his novel. Harley’s fists relaxed from their tight grasp. He was not one to worry about.

She didn’t stop looking at the group of men. Robert crudely ate his food sucking his fingers into his mouth whilst never breaking sight of Harley. Dr. Young was continuing to speak with the guard ignoring all else around her. Or was she? This could possibly be a test to see if Harley would break under pressure. Right now Dr. Young had almost won as Harleen was eyeing the way back to the lobby. Back to the ease of school and her home not this foreign commotion. She could take up the gymnastics dream her family so desperately wanted for her. Fizzle out by twenty five. Get married have a kid or two. These were becoming more and more appealing when Robert smacked his lips at the mere thought of her. Her feet began to turn in the other direction.

“Hey Robert.”

A new voice had broken through the intensity of the criminal’s gaze. Harley couldn’t identify where it was coming from. The person speaking must have had their back turned. She still had the chance to run, but found that her feet couldn’t quite make the effort.

“What do you want circus boy?” Robert snapped in impatience. It was obvious he didn’t like being distracted from his pray. This new intervention caused Harleen to stand her ground with her shoulders squared.

“Why don't cannibals eat vegetables?” Harley turned a little bit to attach the voice to a man with his back to her. The only thing she could see clearly against the slanting light from the only window in the room was bright red hair. His stance was hunched which made his shoulders look incredibly broad.

“Why not?” Robert sighed a small smile tugging on his lips. Harley guessed he liked jokes and was willing to break his game with her to hear the end of one. She was almost thankful to the strange man for putting the pressure off her. Could he have noticed her distress and come to her rescue?

“They're too hard to get out of the wheelchairs!” The punchline caused Robert to almost fall out of his chair with doubled over laughter. It was akin to a pig squeal accompanied with snorting. If Harleen was being honest she hoped the man had something better up his sleeve then that.

That was when the bright shine of a kitchen knife came into view, but by the time Harley could scream in warning it was too late. The sharp edge of it was in Robert’s shoulder and the entire hall erupted into chaos. This caused the guard speaking to Dr. Young to rush into the fray and pull the fighting apart piece by piece. The chanting and shouting rang in Harleen’s ears. Had Robert been stabbed because of her? Had she inspired such a thing to happen or was she simply being self absorbed? The red haired boy could have been planning this for weeks, but the way his movements were orchestrated indicated otherwise. He didn’t look like the type of person who had plans. He did this because of her.

She could see the guy with the book sigh and move to a corner to continue reading. Robert was curled up in the ground making his same pig squealing noises and in that moment Harley is almost glad he had gotten what he deserved. The disrespect he had shown her and countless other women merited no more.

“Welcome to Arkham Miss. Quinzel,” Dr. Young said her voice effortlessly breaking through the madness. She seemed so _pleased_ with the turn of events.

The guard was successful in pulling the perpetrator from the fray. His hand still gripped the blood stained knife and Harley was sure the only thing that kept him from stabbing the guard was well was the fact that his wrist was restrained. He appeared even wilder with his face to her now. His red hair fell from its immaculate style and his Arkham jumpsuit was torn from what she assumed was Robert trying to bite him. His serene expression caught her even more compared to the emotions everyone else was going through. Even the man with the book’s annoyance was not surprising. The red headed boy simply looked like he felt nothing.

“Valeska! You’re coming with me to solitary!” The guard hissed while binding his wrists in handcuffs that looked very tight.

“And that’s my exit!” Valeska chirped happily. “Thank you! Thank you! I’ll be here all week!” He tried to bow but was stopped with a sharp tug of the cuffs. It looked like it caused him pain but his expression didn’t read it as such. Harley felt compelled to ask the guard to loosen them.

His head spun around to lock eyes directly with Harley. “See ya around, _toots_.” With that he offered the most wicked smile Harley had ever seen. It stretched almost across his entire face and made his boyish features alien. That was a winning grin.

And Harley smiled right back at him. 


	3. these are the things I can do without

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley's curiosity leads her down a dark path

_Shout_  
_Shout_  
_Let it all out_  
_These are the things I can do without_  
_Come on_  
_I'm talking to you_  
_Come on_

**_-Tears For Fears - Shout_ **

The ensuing scuffle after the red headed boy had been confined to solitary was quickly broken up by more guards. Robert was carried off to medical and the man with the book sat comfortably at his table again. The efficiency of Arkham completely contrasted it’s chaos moments before. It was as if the staff wanted these bursts of madness only to brag about how they could stop it whenever they pleased.

“Remember what I said earlier?” Dr. Young’s voice broke through Harleen’s haze.

 _Oh, right the smiling._ She had completely forgotten about that when exchanging grins with Valeska. His smirk had been infectious and Harley didn’t want deny herself a connection with a patient. He might be the one to give her the case that could make her budding career. Or maybe she just needed a companion in the deep dark greys of Arkham. A girl could always use a good friend and Dr. Young was not shaping up to be that person.

Harleen was well liked enough in school. Being on an array of teams and a top scoring student had its perks. She had been ingrained in Gotham teen society for as long as she could remember but there was something out of place. She found herself more comfortable with her psychology books or gymnastics then other people. It wasn’t that she was shy or scared it was just that she couldn’t quite be bothered with it _. Who was dating who? What outfit was Joan wearing today? Which member of the football team would ask her to the dance?_ It was all so trivial…. Compared to the processes of the mind or the study of the criminal life that Harleen wished to talk about instead of gossip. Even Robert’s lewd comments towards her and his eventual stabbing because of it gave her more of a thrill then any shiny haired quarterback.

She bit down on her cheeks to prevent the tugging of her lips at the thought of that boy’s smile. “Who was that?” Harley asked.

Dr. Young scoffed and almost as if nothing had occurred at all took up her rapid pace ahead. Harleen stumbled along with her. “Jerome Valeska. He’s eighteen years old, already killed his mother, and wounded about thirty of our staff both physically and emotionally. He’s quite familiar with solitary at this point.”

 _Jerome…_ A name to the face that had inspired such curiosity within Harley. She had never seen anyone like him. His flaming ginger hair that must have been natural paired with his otherworldly face. He was so full of joy even when committing the most horrible acts. _His brain must be fascinating,_ she thought feeling a pang of disappointment at the fact that she wasn’t a true employee and therefore could not set up a meeting. However, she tuned in to what Dr. Young had said and considered the fact that if they were alone she would be next on his _stab list_.

“Is solitary bad?” Harleen asked wondering where this sudden instinct to care about his well being had come from.

The doctor’s head turned slightly at this remark, never breaking her stride. Harleen still struggled to not fall behind. It was made even worse that she was wearing her cheerleading sneakers and Dr. Young was clad in bright red heels.

“It’s not even your first day Miss. Quinzel and you’re already moon eyed over an inmate?” A smirk played upon Dr. Young’s face. _Didn’t she say no smiling?_

“Well… I-uh...” That truly left Harleen at a loss. She wasn’t used to being spoken to so forwardly. There were always roundabout remarks that lead to the eventual question. It was admirable quality to not beat around the bush.

“I understand your predicament Miss. Quinzel. He’s young, he gave you a smile, and some attention. We already have enough fan letters addressed to his cell after his case hit the papers.” Dr. Young let out a shudder at the mere thought of it. “But be warned. I’ve never encountered someone with a record like his and I don’t hope to again. He is a _monster_ and it would do us all some good to stay away.”

Harleen found herself nodding at the older woman’s words. This was a man who had stabbed someone without a second thought and then proceeded to hit on her. Or was he? It was more likely that he was simply playing games with her. Hoping to make her putty in his hands. Maybe he knew with the right girl he could pull a set of traps to lure her into his own benefits. Harleen wanted to will it so it wouldn’t be so, but she knew in her heart that Dr. Young was right.

Finally, Dr. Young stopped walking and a nearly out of breath Harleen stopped in front of a large metal door labeled **_Files and Organization_**. “This is where you will be spending your time at Arkham.” The doctor chirped. She seemed in much betters spirits to now be almost rid of Harley.

The room was stacked from top to bottom with filing cabinets. Some that were unreachable for Harleen. If an earthquake just so happened to hit Gotham while she was in this room then she’d be squashed. The cabinets looked incredibly rickety and there was only a tiny sliver of space for her to fit in accompanied by a stool. A lone light bulb swung eerily from the ceiling illuminated just how dirty the floor was or the sickly brown paint job.  

“Our little fiasco back in the common hall gave us less time than I thought.” Dr. Young sighed. “So start from A to Z and I will leave you to it Miss. Quinzel.”

With a prompt shove Harley was in the room and the door was shut behind her. She could hear Dr. Young’s brisk footsteps echoing fainter and fainter. She was alone in this little crawl space with the chance of any villain busting through the door. It wasn’t that enforced and the small wooden stool wouldn’t do much for protection.

Harley thought it best to start from A just as Dr. Young had instructed, but her eyes wandered over to the bold letter **_V_** plastered on a cabinet level with her waste. Her hand gripped the cold handle and tugged. It took some effort but the drawer flew open. No wonder she was brought in for this job. Most of the files didn’t even have the letter V in them let alone a patient with a last name starting with it. She held out hope that his case was new therefore would be in the right spot.

Her intuition proved to be correct as a slim mainella folder with _Jerome Valeska_ written on it in big black letters came into her hands. She flipped it open to find some newspaper clippings on the case. It described the crime with a photo of James Gordon attached in its heroic glory. The man had solved so many cases that the Gotham Gazette didn’t bother with a new picture every time. It was always the same one with the cop posed in front of his desk with a stern expression like he’d rather be getting back to work. He seemed like a good guy. The type of fellow one could trust with their life.

Looking below the photograph was the usual plodding of the felony. A supposed devil worship plot thwarted by Detective Gordon and Dr. Leslie Thompkins that turned out to be the usual matricide. Harleen had read many of these stories in the papers in preparation for her internship. This one looked to be the same.  However, when reaching the last paragraph Harleen found something that struck her fancy.

_Reports from the GCPD say that even when the young murderer was apprehended his laughter echoed across the station for weeks to come._

So it seemed the laughter was nothing new. She wanted to ask him why he did such things. Why murder his mother and then dispose of the evidence in such a sloppy manner? Why let someone help him? Why brag about the crime? Why laugh? It was like he wanted to be caught and branded a madman for the rest of his life. This could be what he wanted. Fame and notoriety to pair with his wicked sense of humor like a good wine. Possibly to spread a message or an ideology. To commit atrocities with a smile on one’s face. Well, that whole plan wasn’t going to do any good with one measly article in a newspaper.

She tucked the clippings into the back of the folder to find more files listing his name, height, age, and so on. At the bottom of such generic findings were written summaries of interviews with him. Now that was interesting. Usually everything in Arkham was recorded, but the tapes must be stored somewhere else as that was where the meat of the session was. Harley would have to do with these pencil scrawlings for now. She gazed upon the first one most likely conducted during Jerome’s first moments in Arkham.

_In my most recent discussion with Mr. Valeska I had more than enough doubts. I made sure two extra guards were posted at the walls before continuing ahead. I heard that during his introduction interview he had scared his poor young doctor so much that she resigned and moved from Gotham. He’s only been here for a few weeks and has already gone through three other therapists. I was hoping to be the one to make a breakthrough. Most matricide cases result from abuse in the past and the adult’s inability to let go of their inner child that longs for maternal protection. Mr. Valeska holds a tight grip on his childlike behavior when it comes to his humor, but within a few seconds of our meeting I could tell he was not like others I have encountered. He immediately asked if I wanted to know why he did it and when I responded with enthusiasm he broke into a fit of hysterics. He said and I quote from memory, “You people always want to know why! Why is that? Oh look, I did it too!” This was followed by more laughter to the point where I thought he might have to be restrained. “People can just do things! It’s that simple really.” I distinctly remember his voice dropping to an octave I thought to be unreachable for a boy his age. “You should try it sometime, doc.”_

Harleen stopped reading at that point to slam the file back into its cabinet and shut it with a crash. She wondered how anyone could have such little remorse for anything. But then again she was asking questions wasn’t she? Jerome was the antithesis of questions and plans. The sheer horror of his words only made Harley want to speak to him even more. He was interested in talking that was for sure. When looking at the notes she noticed quote upon quote upon quote. His words were to be savored and dissected. He knew that everything he said would inspire debate amongst doctors as to what he was. She assumed that the individual taking these notes had resigned or moved to another patient. They were all terrified of him. There was no genuine interest in their findings only the desire to fulfill quota. Nobody wanted to get close enough to know for sure, but Harley would.

She would be the one to figure out Jerome Valeska.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Harley what have you gotten yourself into...


	4. with your feet on the air and your head on the ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harleen's plans of acquiring knowledge on Jerome don't go as smoothly as she thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god here it is *drumroll* the first meeting!!

  
_With your feet on the air_   
_And your head on the ground_   
_Try this trick and spin it, yeah_   
_Your head'll collapse_   
_If there's nothing in it_   
_And then you'll ask yourself_   


_Where is my mind?_

_**- _ **Pixies,**_ Where Is My Mind** _

Harleen woke up to smell of eggs being made in the kitchen. That was _definitely_ the way to start any morning. She stretched her muscles in a catlike manner and headed towards the bathroom to brush her teeth. As if by habit she picked up the red ribbons she normally wore in her hair, but set them down remembering the dress code. Instead a tight bun pulled at her scalp.

When re-entering her room she examined the outfit she laid out the night before. She longed to wear the red blouse she had on her first day, but dreaded the comments Dr. Young would make. She had already told Harley that it was too “fitted” and that she needed to look professional. Even when her days were spent locked in a filing cabinet. The only time she was seen by anyone was when she entered and when she exited the asylum. The stretch of hallway beside the common hall had become her favorite place in Arkham. It was the only location where anything of interest could even remotely happen.

Harleen buttoned up a white shirt and threw on her labcoat. She didn’t have the energy to put in her contacts today thus her big rounded glasses slipped onto her face. She was thankful that criminals did not have judgements against spectacles like high school students did. If anything it made her more wordly. She padded downstairs to have breakfast. Her parents would normally already be at work by this hour, but if they were home that meant they were gearing up for a talk.

“Smells delicious,” Harley murmured trying to lighten the mood when she saw the scene before her. Her parents just as blonde and blue eyed as her were sitting next to each other at their rickety table. A pile of eggs sat untouched in front of them.

“Sit down Harleen.” Her mother said possibly through clenched teeth. Harley couldn’t rightly tell because it seemed her folks said everything through clenched teeth.

She plopped down into the chair across from them and braced herself. Her coat began to itch again and it took everything in her willpower not to squirm. She spooned some eggs on a plate in front of her and began to eat to avoid the awkward tension in the room.

“Your father and I have been talking about this… Internship thing,” the setup. Harley always hated the setup. She wished they would just get to the point and say what they wanted to say. “It’s not in your best interest. You should be training for your gymnastics scholarship like we always talked about.”

“I’m not taking the gymnastics scholarship,” Harleen tried to not sound whiny. Like the typical angsty teenager from any throwaway high school drama show that streamed regularly on TV. 

Her parents only did want the best for her. They had grown up in the Narrows surrounded by gangs and violence. Harley had been raised there herself for eight years of her life. They had worked tirelessly at their jobs in a pharmaceutical company in order to get out of that bad neighborhood. The constant pushing was only to make sure she was secure, but it didn’t stop to piss her off.

“I have the opportunity to help people.” She continued.

“These criminals don’t need your help. Besides, what are you doing in there? Organizing files? It’s a waste!” Her father had come into play now. This was going to give her a headache for the rest of the day.

“I’m doing a good job with the files and Dr. Young promised I would be able to take notes on her sessions soon.” It was in fact true, she was on the letter G and Dr. Young had asked her to bring in a notebook from now on. Just in case. “It hasn’t even been a month, dad! And look at the progress I’m making.”

She wanted to tell them about Jerome. About what she had been planning. To be the youngest in all of Arkham to get him to talk. However, Jerome’s stay in solitary had been quite extended and she hadn’t seen him again since her first day. Her parents certainly wouldn’t go for it either way.

“We know that you love doing this, Harleen, but sometimes things don’t work out the way we want them to be. We have to accept the talents we are given.” Her mother attempted to reach out, but as quick as the coveted gymnastics training taught her Harley was on her feet.

“I’m going to keep going to Arkham, mom. It’s gonna work out you’ll see.” She tried offering them a smile that was not returned at all. Typical. “I gotta go, but thanks for the eggs.” Harley grabbed her bag and shuffled out the door in order to catch her bus to the outskirts of Gotham in time.

* * *

 

Entering the lobby of Arkham was just as nerve wracking every single day. It felt like she was a newbie all over again. She waited by the help desk for an official to show up like Dr. Young had told her. However, one rarely did and she would just go in on her own, but Harleen tried to give them a chance first.

The guard behind the desk was falling asleep. Drool slid from the corner of his mouth onto his neck and Harley decided she had enough of standing around. She knocked on the desk to get the guard's attention to no avail. “Hey Mister?!” She raised her voice to a good and loud yell.

The guard jerked awake with a comical snort. His confusion made Harley giggle. Nothing like a good scare. “I’m Harleen Quinzel. I work here.” She wiggled her badge in front of his face. “I’m going in now, alright?”

He gave her a look like he had no idea what she was saying. “I’m gonna take that as a yes. Have a good day!” She said attempting to take up Dr. Young’s lightning pace. Even if the doctor didn’t feel the need to chauffeur Harleen around everywhere anymore. It required more practice then she thought with stumbles accompanying the smooth strides. However, it was a good way to walk. Brisk and to the point just like the woman who perfected it. If anything it would get her to the common hall faster.

The cell that originally held Barbara Kean (Harleen had become all too familiar with full names by having to organize every file in Gotham) was now empty and waiting for a new inmate. The guards who stood by her workplace had a penchant for gossip and according to them Barbara had already made herself a part of Arkham’s most elite group of killers. The only thing they all seemed to have in common was the fact that they were murderers and Jim Gordon busted their cases wide. She even heard that he and Barbara were engaged before he arrested her. Love hurts indeed.

Harley slowed her pace down when the common hall approached her vision. There was a considerable lack of guards today and she guessed there must be a situation in the bedrooms wing for this to be so. The only ones who were even standing there were gazing out the window or at Barbara who was leisurely relaxed in her chair reading. Her demeanor reminded Harleen of Richard Sionis, the man with the book. They would be a good match. Better than whatever images of Barbara being with _Jim Gordon_ could conjure in her mind.

“Aren’t even gonna say hello, are ya?” A drawl echoed through the almost silent room and that voice... It wasn’t of Robert’s rough way of speaking. No, this was the smooth tone she remembered amidst all the chaos. A specific voice attached to a particularly wicked smile. “I must admit I’m a little disappointed, _toots_.”

There it was again, that _moniker_. She stopped walking altogether to turn and face him. He looked no worse for wear after spending nearly a month in solitary. A bit thinner and sharper around the edges, but the same from when she had seen him last. His jumpsuit was better off compared to the ragged mess it had been when Robert had tried to get revenge. He wore it with style leaning against the bars that separated him and Harley cowboy style.

He was back and standing before her. She had thought about it for so long. The opportunity to speak to him at last came upon her. There was a distinct feeling like she was standing in front of the audience in some sort of school play. Nerves bit at her throat and belly causing not a sound to come out when she opened her mouth. She looked like a fool.

“I’m Jerome,” he said pointing at himself as if she were completely inept of social cues. That just wouldn’t do.

“I know,” the words flowed out better than she expected, but they weren’t as practiced as his. “You’re pretty famous around here.”

_Appease his ego. Make him feel good about himself._ The first note anyone could take from his files was the fact that he was incredibly narcissistic. His way of referring to “people” as if they were inanimate objects or even bugs. He liked the whole bug analogy. Or the fact that he enjoyed the sound of his own voice more than hearing anything his doctors had to say. 

That earned her a smile. Similar to the one he had given before. It was like he was looney with glee. “Glad to know I still have fans.” His posture turned so he was facing Harley fully. His hands gripped the bars and she realized how easy it was for him to reach out and grab her. She maintained her stance. The last thing she needed was for him to know she was afraid.

“You stabbed Robert Greenwood for me.” Harley accused.

That got a laugh out of him, a loud and boisterous one. It was so animated that Harleen worried his head would explode from sheer effort. “That I did. That I did. A guy’s gotta get a pretty girl’s attention somehow!” The laughter caused his entire being to change. His frame shook and his face stretched. Any sane person knew it would be their chance to run right away while he was distracted, but well Harley was an aspiring for a career at Arkham and anyone who worked at Arkham wasn't entirely sane.

“Speaking of pretty! What’s a girl like you doing here in Arkham?” He asked. His eyes were almost black in the dim light. His appearance was akin to that of a snake. He slithered along the bars. Circling her. “You’re not like Babs over there…. No, you’re not a _kill-er_.” His extra emphasis on the word sent a chill throughout the room. Harleen did her best to make sure her body didn't respond to the feeling it gave her. 

“I intern here in my free time.” She needed to play his game in order to get inside his mind. He needed to know about her before opening up himself. She remembered reading that in one of her many books. Being relatable was key.

“Ah, that’s what the lab coat is for! Tell me, was it as _cheap_ as it looks?”

The attack against her coat wasn’t the thing that struck anger in her. It was the fact that he was asking so many questions. He had already turned her method around on her. He knew from the moment she spoke to him what she wanted and he slapped her in the face with it.

“It’s a lot better than that jumpsuit.” Harley deadpanned. This was not part of the plan. Not even in the same hemisphere as the plan. It was most likely Jerome would take offense to her comment, return to his seat, and they would never speak from here on out.

Instead, he cackled yet again slamming his palms onto his knees in joy. This caused some of the inmates to look over in curiosity and then quickly return to what they were doing. It was strange to consider that in this environment Jerome’s antics were commonplace. “You got fight don’t you, sweets? I like that.” He leaned in so close that his forehead touched the cool metal of the bars. His expression turned so sinister that Harleen’s stomach rocked in fear. “I like you.”

“You must really like me if you spent time in solitary because of me.” She was careful in her phrasing. This was an unauthorized _“therapy”_ session taking place through the easily breakable bars of the common hall. No one needed to know what kind of conversation they were having. If Dr. Young had come storming down the hall at that very second Harley would have no qualms about screaming a fever pitch on how he was attacking her. She was a strategist after all, one had to be in Arkham.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before.” He wasn’t facing her anymore. His profile was clearly visible from where his shoulder was balanced against the metal rods. Then suddenly without warning he pounced around again wiggling his fingers in the space between them. “I just realized that all this time we’ve spent together and I don’t even know your name. Hell of a first date.”

She was tempted to correct him on his assumption of a date, but decided against it. Let him think whatever he wanted to think. Underneath all that makeup that was his madness teenage boys were teenage boys and she knew what kind of effect she had on teenage boys. “It hasn’t been that long.” Harley countered soundly entirely like a shy school girl despite her efforts to be professional. _Dammit._

Jerome tsked at her with a long clicking sound of his tongue. He truly was the human embodiment of a reptile. His slimy movements, his dark eyes, and the way he spoke so smoothly. It was as if he hand picked every word in his sentences before saying them out loud. “Believe it or not I don’t stab people for the attention of just anyone. A name would be a way of saying thank you.” His voice reached a low point and went through Harleen’s veins. She had heard doctors describe it before, but being confronted with it was a whole other story. She felt compelled to back away.

“Fine, I’ll bite.” She said trying her hardest to keep calm and not look as scared as she was. Giving this boy her name would change things entirely. There would be no air of mystery surrounding her that made her interesting. It was possible that as soon as this information leaked out Jerome would become bored and move on to something better. “I’m Harleen. Harleen Quinzel.”

The laugh this time was not so much of a cackle. More like he was desperately gasping for air. It went on for seconds close to a minute to the point where tears began to form in his eyes and his face was crimson. She was terrified he was going to fall over and hurt himself. “ _Har-leen Qui-nzel!_ ” He _tasted_ every syllable. Another fit of laughter broke out and Harleen wondered if it was possible to die of pure joy because if so he was well on his way to the grave. “Did anyone ever tell you that if you reworked it a bit you’d get-”

“Harlequin, like the clown, I know.” She attempted to sound disinterested at his findings. Elementary school teasings came back before her eyes and she should have been annoyed at it rearing its ugly head again. However, the way Jerome saw it was as if it was the most spectacular thing he’d ever heard. She had read in his case article on her first day that he lived with a circus bunch before killing his mother. No wonder he had an affinity for clowns.

“Harleen really doesn’t work does it?” He was shaking his head recovering from the gut busting laughter. “It’s so… _Boring,_ not fit for a girl like you.”

“A girl like me?” The awe slid into her voice before she could stop it. She leaned forward hanging on his words. A girl like her earned the best grades in Gotham High School. A girl like her was top performer on both the cheer and gymnastics team. A girl like her did everything her parents asked. A girl like her was defying every principle her life had laid out for her by talking to a guy like Jerome.

“A girl with _potential_. No… Not Harleen…” She was perfectly aware at this point that he was talking to himself more than her. She wondered if he considered conversations while alone the best ones. “Harley, I’m gonna call you Harley.”

“Do I get a nickname for you?” She needed an equal playing field. Allowing him to mold her name to his wishes was sacrificing a lot for an unknown end result. At least they were having a conversation instead of him just spouting his worldview to her and then scaring her off to find a new.... _Therapist? Talking partner? Friend? Date?_

“No… Not yet, you gotta earn it.” His eyes began to wander away from her face and towards the ceiling. He was considering things, he was planning.

Then suddenly he refocused as if a thousand thoughts came into his head at once. His vision zeroed in on her badge she had clipped to her lab coat. The picture had been pulled from her school’s database. It presented Harleen in her pigtails carrying a radiant smile. She remembered the photographer pushing her to make her grin even wider so the cameras could pick it up. No school picture was ever good as the light gave her skin an almost sickly appearance and made her hair look like a cheap dye job. She didn’t care for the picture in the slightest.

“You really should smile more Harley…. It’s very…. _Liberating!_ ” His hands shot out just barely getting to the material of her lab coat. She jumped back in shock of the rattle it caused the bars.

“Valeska!” That had done it and the guard who had been ogling Barbara just seconds before came over to where Jerome was standing. “No contact beyond the designated space!”

“Oh right I almost forgot.” Jerome deadpanned. His shoulders rolled as he threw his head back into an exaggerated yawn. Harleen noted that he dedicated his entire body to every movement he made.

Then it was as if he changed into a completely different person. The tall and straight posture he carried before became slumped and awkward. The expression on his face transitioned from gleeful to innocent schoolboy. It was a shame he was locked up in Arkham. He would have made a fantastic actor. “I was just having a talk with my new friend here. I was gonna ask her out, but I’m just so nervous. Do you think she likes me?” A dark chuckle followed his words, breaking the facade. Harleen wondered if he used the same one on Jim Gordon before he got caught.

The guard was not having it and he pointed over to the tables. Essentially directing Jerome to get the hell away from Harley this very minute. He rolled his eyes and complied heading over to where Barbara was flipping through her third magazine. An unfamiliar pang of disappointment hit her as their time together was over. She had given up so much of herself in exchange for nothing from Jerome in return. Maybe this idea had been a bust all along.

“You alright, Miss?” The guard was talking to her. His hushed voice indicated this wasn’t the first time he had to deal with Jerome. “Did he shake you up?”

“No,” Harley said. Surprisingly, he had not gone for his immediate scare tactics. The thing with the bars was cheap and old hat, but it didn’t look like he was trying to frighten her. It was almost as if he was running out of things to say. He wanted that guard’s attention. He wanted to prepare for another round. He seemed interested in her and that was a heavy complement taking in the fact that he didn’t care about much other than causing trouble in Arkham.

“I don’t know what was going on there ma’am, but that kid is bad news. Soon enough he’s gonna get through and hurt you.” The guard warned continuing his whispering. It was like he was afraid Jerome would hear him.

“I’ll be going to the filing cabinet, don’t worry.” Harleen said in an attempt to appease him. It worked as the guard gave her a gentle nod and headed back to eye Barbara. She felt disgust as this man who giving her advice on how to stay safe was degrading a woman he didn’t know with a simple gaze. _That woman is a killer,_ she thought but how could that stop her from feeling sympathy. In Arkham the most gruesome of offenders were helpless to the guards that were supposed to protect them.

Harleen forced her legs to move towards the filing room. Her steps were shaky as standing so long in front of a presence like Jerome made it hard to get any other muscles working. She was so focused on what she was to say that she didn’t make care of her facial expressions or body movements. For all she knew Harleen could have had the biggest puppy face on the planet and slumped shoulders. _Great at looking even more vulnerable then you already are._

As the sounds of the common hall slipped away for the dense silence of the abandoned corridors Harleen heard the distant droning of Jerome’s voice. It was almost like he was singing a tune long since lost to both their ears. He was very much off key, but he didn’t seem to mind.

_“Harley, Harley, Harley.”_ He sang in repetition. _“Harley-Darley, Harley-Darley.”_

“God will you shut up!” Barbara snapped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was nervous as hell writing this and it took me close to three days bc I was so scared that it wasn't going to be in character or good enough yada yada yada. I'm still not entirely satisfied because writing Jerome is the most terrifying yet interesting thing ever. Tell me what you think of the characterization so far! -Bonus to anyone who gets the Silence of the Lambs reference- 
> 
> Also going in Harley's home life is a bit of a wild card as there are so many different ways to see it. I decided that Harley's parents would be overbearing, but well meaning people which makes her decline into madness all the more tragic.


	5. one way or another

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jerome and Dr. Young have a discussion that leads to deadly consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit was this chapter a doozy! This is where the story officially goes into some darker territory so yee be warned! I just wanted to thank you guys for the massive amounts of support it means the entire world to me and this is all for you guys :)

_I will drive past your house_  
_And if the lights are all down_  
_I'll see who's around_

__**-Blondie/Until the Ribbon Breaks, One Way or Another** _ _

Harley’s feet were balanced on that little wooden stool trying to reach the precarious **_H_** drawer when Dr. Young had come bursting through the door. She looked absolutely livid with strands of her normally immaculate bun falling across her face. That was a true sign of trouble. Harleen expected a break in or an explosion or a riot or...?

“Have you now or ever had any contact with Jerome Valeska?” Her voice was on the edge of rage. She had never seen the woman so completely out of control. Dr. Young was the one constant in Arkham’s mass of variables. There was always an aura of order and charge when her presence was near. Being around this version was unsettling.

“I uh-” In truth Harleen had not encountered Jerome since their first meeting almost two weeks ago. He had not been around in the common hall when she passed by and assumed their time together had reached an end. She was in her own period of mourning about it, which was odd considering that his opinion of her should not matter so much. Yet, she found herself mulling over how interested he seemed in her. The fact that he would change his mind so rapidly was puzzling.  

“Do you know where he is right now?” Dr. Young growled forgetting about her first question entirely. She attempted to straighten out her appearance by tucking her hair in place.

“No,” Harley said shaking her head. She was still perched on the stool with arms outstretched. She recalled watching a documentary about wild beasts. When one was ready to charge at you there was to be no movement. If they couldn’t see you they wouldn’t be so inclined to kill you. Harley found that notion rather ridiculous as wouldn’t not moving make it easier for the animal to rip you to shreds? And right now Dr. Young looked like she wanted nothing more than to tear her limb from limb.

“The medical wing,” her speech was laced with trembles. Not caused by fear. No, the doctor was not a woman to feel fear. She had seen too much from Arkham to be susceptible to a silly emotion like that. “Do you know why?”

Harleen shook her head yet again making an effort to climb down from the stool. She didn’t need to look any taller than Dr. Young. Submitting was the only way to get on this woman’s good side. “No, I have no idea Missus Young.”

The older doctor produced a small black object from the deep pockets of her medical coat. It was not the one Harley had purchased from a second hand Halloween store. This was top quality just like the woman herself. “Do you know what I am holding in my hand?”

“A tape recorder,” Harleen answered timidly. She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to reach out and take it. She opted to keep her hands to her sides.

“All sessions at Arkham are recorded on these little things.” The tone in Dr. Young’s voice had dropped significantly. Harley was reminded of Jerome. “I was assigned the lovely task of conducting therapy with Mr. Valeska after he teased his last doctor about her father’s death. He said she couldn’t even impress him when he was six feet under and that it was a shame she didn’t kill him before the heart attack did.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Harleen wanted to sound stronger than she felt. She had more than an inkling that Dr. Young had busted her. That she should be prepared to pack her things while another fresh new intern took her place. 

“You know why.” There it was, the end of her career before it even began.

Dr. Young’s slender finger hit the bright green play button on the recorder. The wheels of the tape began to wind as a static ripped through the tiny room. Even with the lack of space Harleen noted that Dr. Young stood as far away as possible. Her back was poised against the door. Maybe it was to keep her from slapping Harley like her shaking hands so desperately wanted to.

The clank of what appeared to be chains drowned out the crackle. Jerome must had been cuffed from head to toe before being in a room with anyone valuable to Arkham. It made sense in light of the stabbing. This must had been his newest session since speaking to Harley.

“Hello Jerome, I’m Dr. Penelope Young and I will be overseeing your therapy from now on.” The persona Dr. Young decided to go with was that of an extending helping hand. _A friend_. It was the first time Harleen considered Dr. Young to be _wrong_ about something. The last thing Jerome wanted was a friend. What he wanted was someone to play games with.

“Hmmm… That’s _interesting_ …” Jerome drawled. Harley had not forgotten the sound of _that voice_. Every sentence was dragged on. Possibly in an effort to annoy Dr. Young. He had already calculated in their mere seconds together that she was a woman with little patience.

Dr. Young shifted in her chair. Every sound was picked up exceptionally from the tape recorder. Harley heard a little giggle erupting from Jerome. He had certainly been successful in wasting her time. “I’d like to talk about your mother, if that’s alright.”

“Oh _sure_ , if there’s something everybody knows it’s that a boy’s best friend is his mother.” He cackled at his own reference. Harley could feel it going down her spine.

“Is it true that your mother had a variety of sexual partners?” Dr. Young said ignoring his glee.

There was a scoff from Jerome. “That’s an _und-er-state-ment_.”

“Was it that these debaucheries made you jealous?” Dr. Young was immediately going for the kill. Harleen could see exactly what type of therapist she was. She would dig her knife into the most infected wound and… _Twist._

“Woah there doc. I like my mom and all, but she’s not my type.” A short burst of laughter almost seemed to jump out from the tape. Harleen could already picture Jerome, head thrown back and curling in on himself in amusement.

“I only meant that she may have shown these gentlemen love that she never catered towards you.” Dr. Young’s tone had become soft at these words. It was like listening to a dragon trying to be sweet. 

“Ah.” Jerome said shortly. It’s the only time Harleen could ever remember him speaking that briefly. It was off-putting to say the least. 

“Ah?” Dr. Young mirrored expectantly. In her mind, Harley could see her leaning forward in her chair waiting for Jerome to respond. Waiting to crack Arkham’s top offender. She was about to do in minutes what Harleen could never do.

“I’m getting really bored of this, lady.” The shackles clanked together signaling that he had taken a more relaxed position. “Where’s _Har-ley_?”

Her stomach dropped to the point where she was certain she was going to empty the contents of her breakfast on Dr. Young’s red shoes. Even if it would insist complete and utter termination of her internship. At the same time her heart did a flip in her chest. He had asked about her. He still was interested in her. It didn’t feel entirely normal to be excited about a _murderer_ inquiring about you. Harleen noted it down to the fact that she hadn’t failed their first meeting. That she was as competent as she told herself. She could gain his trust and have Gotham’s most dangerous boy in the palm of her hand. Not the fact that Jerome had said her name. _Not at all._

“Harley?” Dr. Young’s voice sounded uncertain. Every long silence was filled with static as the tape winded on.

“Harley,” he continued. “Ya know, doc?! Blonde, glasses, curves for days… It’s hard to miss her really.”

“Harleen Quinzel?” The anger was already rising in her voice. Harley was trying to ignore the second flip her heart had done when Jerome had mentioned her curves. It was completely _natural_ to feel flattered by compliments on one’s body.

“I prefer Harley. We discussed it already, doc.” He said carelessly. The static became a bit louder. Dr. Young must have been crushing the recorder to a pulp in that moment. Harleen felt sorry for the poor machine. “See, _my_ little Harley understands me. Not like you. You’re just some batty old lady trying to hold onto whatever confidence she has left by keeping her career afloat.” The shift in octaves was evident with each word. Light and lilting when speaking of Harleen. Dark and nail biting when addressing Dr. Young.

There was a pause. A standoff between the two powers. Only the sound of Dr. Young’s breathing resonated. Harleen wasn’t sure if Jerome even breathed when on the attack. He was inhuman when this stage of his personality came forward. “And people wonder why your husband screwed some secretary.” He hissed. Even when her eyes weren’t on him Harley could see how his body slithered through the sentence. “Tell me, was she blonde?”

“You will not be seeing Miss. Quinzel again.” Dr. Young snapped. Her teeth were grinding to where Harley could hear it in the audio of the recording. She thought about her parents habit of doing that when they were cross with her, which seemed to be all the time.

“Now why is that?” He was mimicking the tone she had presented to him earlier. He was _mocking_ the most infamous doctor in Arkham. He had already torn her down like everyone else, but he knew she wasn’t so easily breakable. She wouldn’t run crying from the room at his abuse. She would stand her ground.

“You are not to be interacting with anyone besides your designated therapist or other inmates. If you choose to enjoy the company of Miss. Quinzel again I will have everything taken from you.” She had regained that cool composure that made her Dr. Young in the first place. It was the only time all day that Harley recognized the woman she had been working with.

“Now that’s the spirit, doc!” His voice had become incredibly rough as if he had swallowed nails before speaking. It was like the bark of a rabid dog. “But you see the thing is that I’m not fond of many… Well, things.” And just like that it had become smooth again.

“Go on,” Dr. Young was no longer in the red. She was level headed again and thus recognized opportunity in this. The chance to get him to talk about anything he was feeling at all. Or possibly to get him off her own back.

“Mommy was the one always having all the fun, you see? Poor little Jerome never ever got to have _any fun_.” He drawled. Harleen was positive she couldn’t breath. That the only way she was currently alive at this very moment was the supply of Jerome’s words. The fact that their one conversation had already made such an impact had her ego soaring to the skies. Her body was responding in entirely different ways to this conversation. On the one hand she felt ill about the fact that she was being discussed like an object. On the other she felt powerful. That two people were fighting for control of _her_.

“Are you saying that you are sexually attracted to… _Harley_?” There was Dr. Young playing his game and using his names.

“Why do you gotta label it like that?” A yawn came after that accompanying the crackle of static like music. “Sex is just a healthy _hu-man_ activity.” The word human was said with such contempt that it made Harleen’s skin crawl.

“You seek to hold dominance over her sexually in an attempt to reclaim the power your mother had stolen from you in your youth?”

A booming roar of laughter caused the sound of Dr. Young’s chair scraping away from him. It was his laugh alright, but it was more menacing than Harley could ever remember during her time with him. There was a crash of his own chair falling to the ground with him in it. His chortle never broke even when Dr. Young stood and started shuffling around the room.

“Go help him!” Dr. Young yelled to the orderlies that must have been standing in the corner this whole time. It was surprising that no one besides the doctor and the patient had uttered a single word. Jerome was still cackling when the cacophony of footsteps came closer almost taking over all the sound.

“Come on get up!” That must have been an orderly. Harleen felt something akin to fear for Jerome. The man’s voice sounded all too rough. It was ridiculous to be worried for the boy. He had just spent the entire recording degrading her in every way possible. She should have been hoping for the guard to hurt him.

Then that’s when a sound unlike anything else sliced through the room. Harley vaguely remembered hearing something like this when she went to the butcher shop with her father one time. It had been during their stay in the Narrows and a fight had broken out in the back room. A money dispute if nothing else and her father had covered Harleen’s eyes before she could see what caused the sound. But the blood that splattered the walls of the place that was clearly not animal’s blood was indication enough.

A gurgled scream came quickly after the sound. It was like someone was choking or maybe it was two people choking. Harley was unsure over Dr. Young’s shocked gasp that deafened everything else. Then the tape had stopped.

Harley lifted her eyes to the now slightly calmer Dr. Young with her back still against the door of the filing room. Harley realized now that she was shaking violently. It was like she was in the room with them the whole time. Jerome’s presence still lurked behind her. Ready to pounce.

“He had attempted to rip one of our guard's throats out,” Dr. Young stated coming closer to Harleen. She seemed to be more comfortable in her space. Maybe it was because Harley seemed weaker with her trembling. “With his teeth.”

Harley stumbled back until her arm bumped violently against a cabinet. She would have cried out in pain if not for the fear of Dr. Young’s reaction. “I-”

“Don’t say anything,” there was no change in tone. The doctor wasn’t angry, or at least didn’t sound like it.  “It doesn’t matter what happened between you two. What matters is what happens next.”

“Next?” Harleen questioned. Wasn’t this the part where she was banished from Arkham for eternity? Or a letter was sent to every school in Gotham with the words **DO NOT MAKE THIS WOMAN A PSYCHOLOGIST**  printed in big bold letters on it?

“After his his attack on our orderly he proceeded to choke on the bits of flesh caught in his throat.” Dr. Young recounted. Harley cringed at this. “We were able to get him to medical in time to save him, but there is an issue.”

Harley gulped down the relief that bubbled in her throat. He was alive and she was sure every citizen in Gotham was rolling their eyes at this. Nobody wanted him around. Dr. Young must had been chomping at the bit for him to die after their talk. The inmates would shrug it off and continue their existence. Barbara could finally read in peace. It was a sad thought. Not a person in the world would have cared if he was gone. Well, none except Harley who was trying to convince herself that alleviation she felt was due to confusion.

“What issue?” Harley asked working hard to get the words to come out right. Even in the face of this embarrassing discretion she had to maintain what Dr. Young had taught her in their time together. To remain professional no matter what.

“He’s holding his doctor hostage.” Dr. Young said matter of factly. “I would be lying if I said I wasn’t impressed.”

“How?” As far as Harleen knew Jerome had almost died choking on someone else’s flesh and only minutes later was holding an esteemed member of staff hostage.

“I don’t know because he won’t let any of us into the medical room.” She raised her eyebrows at Harleen. “He asked for you.”

“Me?” She shouldn’t have been surprised. Why else would Dr. Young come all this way for her? To _congratulate_ her on throwing the asylum into chaos?

“His fixation with you is rather fascinating. I must admit it’s the only sign of progress I’ve seen in his case.” Dr. Young swung her arms back and forth against the air. It must had been a signal of nerves. “To tell you the truth I was intent on dismissing you permanently for your indiscretion, but I see opportunity in this.”

Harleen tilted her head as if to ask Dr. Young exactly what she was talking about. The entire session between the two had consisted of them discussing her like a piece of meat. Like a pawn to be traded back and forth. She should have just stomped out of Arkham on her own, but she knew deep in her heart that nothing could pull her away from this. The thrill of Jerome speaking of her was too much to quell. The feeling she got when in his presence or even hearing his voice was not a good one, but nevertheless she wanted more of it. Harley told herself it was curiosity of his mind. There was no one quite like him and she was sure there never would be again. It was originality in its purest form. A good variety of chatty inmates resided in Arkham, but none had mowed through the staff like Jerome had done or were as violent. There was something methodical and fascinating about the way he conducted his brutality. The stabbing of Robert had been all fluid movements and grace. It was the opening act. His mental take down of Dr. Young was as beautiful as witnessing a perfect balance leap. A perfect class in emotional manipulation. The incident with the orderly was entirely unlike Jerome it was as if he was screaming for attention. Harley’s attention.

“You are the only one to produce anything from him. I can already see how this will go. We’ll assign him another therapist and he’ll rip them down until he can have you.” Dr. Young continued.

“You’re gonna throw me to the lions?” Harleen questioned. She was only seventeen there was no way that any law in Gotham said this was okay. If her parents found out they’d personally drive to Arkham themselves and drag her out by her hair. She wouldn’t be shocked if Jim Gordon himself knocked down the door and demanded she head home to safety.

“You and I aren’t so very different Harleen. You have ambition and so do I. Don’t you think I had you pegged for wanting to write a tell all book about one of my patients from the moment you walked in? Here’s your chance to get inside the mind of one of the most famous criminals in Arkham.” Dr. Young said. “I’ll even split the profits of the book with you.”

“This is _crazy_ ,” Harleen breathed. "This is illegal." 

"Not the first time we've done something unorthodox in Arkham," Dr. Young shrugged. "I won't tell if you don't." 

Every instinct in her mind screamed for her to just say no and go back to her old life. However, the image of her parents smug faces made her stand her ground. What did she have to go back to? A gymnastics career? A future family with a husband who peaked as quarterback in high school? No, none of that looked very nice to Harley. “Does he want to talk now?”

“Of course,” Dr. Young chirped. “The doctor is still alive as far as we can tell. If you go in there and get him to back down you can have all the time in the world with him with my consent.”

“Alone?” Harley meant for it to sound less like a squeak.

“He won’t allow anyone else. We already tried to break down the door but he said one more push and the doc is toast.” Dr. Young grimaced on recounting Jerome’s words. “I cannot afford another death in this place. Besides he has a wife and kids who have no idea on what’s going on.”

That was the first time Dr. Young attempted to play the sympathy angle on Harleen. She could very well be lying to get her to comply. It wouldn’t have even made a difference since Harley had already made her choice. “Well then, let’s go. I got an admirer waiting for me," she said trying to keep the corners of her mouth from pulling up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow ok I have some notes about this chapter I guess because it was just as hard to do as the first meeting. I've read over it at least 25 times and made thousands of corrections to get the tone of the scene right. I really wanted to bring a throwback to the collectable interview tapes from the first Arkham game because those were my some of my favorite aspects from it. Also, how rude were Dr. Young and Jerome discussing Harley like that, ugh... But Harley's shrugging off of this behavior is sort of the first indication of her blindness to how horrible and twisted the whole thing is. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter it was a hell of a lot of fun to write!


	6. and I'm virtually yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley confronts Jerome in the medical room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok just letting you guys know that i am not in fact dead, but school is a rough thing and I had like 87 projects and essays and tests this week so writing was a bit halted.. But I can at least promise a weekly update bc despite all the hectic stuff at school I will find the time! So here it is my favorite chapter of this fic to date!

_Something about you_  
_It's like an addiction_  
_Hit me with your best shot honey_  
_I've got no reason to doubt you_  
_'Cause certain things hurt_  
_And you're my only virtue_  
_And I'm virtually yours_

_**\- James Arthur, Certain Things** _

The doc was asleep, snoring soundly like a baby. That’s what a boat load of drugs to the system did. Jerome wasn’t entirely sure _what_ he was injecting into the doc’s neck when he got the jump on him, but it seemed to do the trick. An educated guess would assume that it was some kind of new anesthetic for the more rowdy patients. Kind of hilarious that he had used the doc’s own protection against him.

He remembered wanting to laugh when the nurses slammed his chest over and over again to get him to cough up anything. It was then they found out he didn’t _want_ to heave up parts. That’s when the digging in his throat began for an extended period of time. Just enough for him to regain the energy he needed for what was to happen next. After they had pulled the bits and pieces of that guy from him the doc thought it was a brilliant idea to send out all his nurses for extra back up. He had turned his back to do… _Something._ It didn’t matter. What did matter was that Jerome could spring up, grab the syringe on the metal counter adjacent to operating table where he had been lying and jam it into the first vein he could find. He had chuckled to himself as the doctor went down with a sound akin to shock. Like he didn’t learn  ** _not_** to turn his back on an inmate in Arkham 101.

It had been a whooping two hours and forty eight minutes since this had occurred. A little while for the staff to realize what had happened. (Just enough time for him to barricade the door.) A bit longer for them to reach the medical room and demand he let the doc go safe… _Blah Blah Blah…_ He had done his usually boring threatening of one more knock against that door and the doc is dead. _Yawn_. He felt like a villain in the picture shows that he vaguely remembered from…. _Somewhere._  Maybe his Ma had taken him once when the circus was close by. That was an amusing thought. Then when the legions of voices behind the door had finally shut up to hear his response he just asked for Harley. It was a simple request really. He had originally planned on wishing for a pony but the thought slipped his mind. A pretty blonde was much more appealing anyway.

He considered himself a patient guy. After all he had waited **_eighteen_** years to show his true colors (and that's why they loved him… _Ha._ ) These were long, hard, and miserable years trying to keep a straight face while the world around him was just so… _Funny._ It was difficult not to laugh while your mother’s twenty sixth (or was it twenty eighth?) boyfriend was beating the crap out of you while some other kid’s mom was buying her son cotton candy. Some people said your Ma doesn’t choose you. You choose your Ma. _What a hoot._

He had played along. Performed the part of the timid kid who flinched at the inkling of a touch. It was a fun in a way to see how people stuck to it like flies in honey. The circus protected him and he even got that blind old fool on his side. Didn’t need to be a detective to figure out that he was his father. It was pathetic the way he got the shriveled up excuse of a fortune teller to clumsily cover up the murder for him. _It wasn’t my fault, I swear! Aren’t you gonna help me?_ A few tears in the eyes and that was it. He knew he was gonna get caught. He just wanted to see who would be the one to do it and Jim Gordon did not disappoint. The man had sat there with an expression forged from steel as Jerome tried his damndest to put on one last good show before he left it behind for good. Then it was time to pull of the mask and reveal himself. _It had been fun! Oh what fun!_ Enough to shake everyone in the room and hopefully give them nightmares to remember. He could practically hear an audience applauding for him somewhere.  

Despite that, none of this was fruitful enough for his labors. Sure it was nice to be able to hold Arkham in the palm of his hands and play games with every unfortunate soul that crossed his path. _But..._ He was bigger than all of that. Gotham cried his name through the thick walls of the asylum and soon enough it would be time to stage an escape. However, he was a easy-going guy and why not play with his new lady toy while stuck in this dump? He _liked_ Harley. One could put up the argument that he had _liked_ lots of girls. Babs was one of them, but it was different. Maybe if he had met her before Jerry (Jason? Johnny?) had cracked her she would have been a prospect. No, Barbara was already owned by a variety of others. Even if she would never admit it she basically had **_James Gordon_** tattooed on her forehead. Jerome didn’t play with  _broken_ things.

_Har-ley_ on the other hand was just waiting for someone to come along and change her life. He could almost smell it on her. She had so many chances to leave and do whatever it is she did before coming here. She didn’t because she _needed_ this. Every time he had spoken to her or even looked at her only served to boost her craving for him. The more she craved the more she would want to see him. And more she would see him the more he would _possess_ her. It was like a dance his Ma used to do with the snake when she had been…. _Alive._ He remembered the lechery that poured from the men’s eyes in the crowd when the snake curled its way up her body. The way the reptile entrapped his mother in its grasp nearly choking the life from her. Those fellows wanted to _be_ that snake. He never quite understood it until witnessing that blonde little girl smile at him while he was being detained for _stabbing_ someone. That grin was so very delicious.

_Oh, and their first meeting!_ How her body had shaken at the mere sight of him. Not from fear, he had enough of people being afraid. That was just boring. This was something else. She had been so excited offering up so much of herself in exchange to just try and pry his mind. He didn't opt to take her down in light of the fact that he hadn’t dealt with anyone so _willing_ to bend. He had tried nicknames on some of his first doctors who didn’t take so well to it. Or they accepted them for the mere reason of appeasing him. They didn’t want to be _molded_.

_Pretty. Intelligent. Harley._ Of all the people she could have taken an interest in there was only one path that lead straight back to him. The moment he saw her from beyond the cell bars he had marked her. Oh, he was sure guys ran hot on Harley’s heels all the time. Why wouldn’t they? His little girl was a catch, _dammit_. But that would end right here. There was no one else for Harley as long as he was around. He staked claim. She had no way of knowing it yet, but she was destined for a lifetime with him. She could run. She could most definitely run from him. The thought of it made him want to eat her whole.

_And how do we begin to covet?_

_We begin by coveting what we see every day._

Jerome threw his head back and cackled. The doc stirred only slightly. He had pumped enough drugs into him to last all night long. Oh he could wait alright. Jerome knew his Harley would come slithering back towards him. Who knew growing up with snakes could be so useful?

* * *

 

The door to the medical room was less imposing than others in Arkham. Maybe that was to give the patients a more serene feel. It sure didn’t work for Harleen. Her stomach was knotted in places she never even could think of and she wondered if asking Dr. Young to quickly vomit before proceeding would be appropriate.

The entirety of the guard force was standing behind her. The most burly and intimidating men and women in Gotham were keeping an arm's length distance like she was going to infect them. They must had seen the nasty work Jerome had done on the orderly. He had done a damn good job of scaring them to the point where they hid behind mommy’s skirts. Mommy in this case was Dr. Young who stood confidently next to Harley.  

“Mr. Valeska!” Dr. Young bellowed. Her voice showed not a hint of fear. Harley wished she could sound the same. “We have her here.”

The trade of properties made Harleen’s skin go ice cold. She tried to remember the fact that Dr. Young was merely playing a game with Jerome in treating her like a possession. That didn’t stop the sneer that spread across her face. “Jerome?” Harley called out tentatively. She realized this was the first time she said his name out loud. _You never forget your first._

There was a loud creaking sound of something being moved. A small grunt of effort that Harley only seemed to pick up on. It reminded her that in spite of all this boy’s alien qualities he was still a living breathing person. She stuck her hand into the pocket of her lab coat to squeeze a spare pen in there. She hadn’t told Dr. Young about her sharp possession, but if the need for close combat came at least she wouldn’t feel so helpless.

“Come on in, dollface!” His voice chirped through the door, albeit slightly winded. Even with an entire wall of steel between him and everyone else the guards jumped. “The party's just getting started!”

Dr. Young gave Harley one last sympathetic glance before stepping away causing the whole patrol to go with her. In this moment Harleen was alone as her trembling hand pushed open the door. It was a little stuck and some heaving with her shoulder was required. Not a single person behind her tried to help. _So much for Gotham’s finest._

The room was dark save for the only light source being a rickety lamp near the operating table. X-rays of what must have been Jerome’s throat were stuck to the wall. The evidence of how much flesh he had been choking on showed in the pictures. Harleen immediately sought out the sleeping form of the doctor. He was curled in a small ball beside counter that held all the sharp tools such as scalpels and scissors. That made it all the more easier to grab one and end his life if she tried anything.

Then there was Jerome propped up against the operating table he had almost died on mere hours ago. If there was any word Harley could associate with his appearance (or even his demeanor) it would be _feral_. His hair fell from its perfected style into his face. The fiery locks gave its own shine to the room making it easier for Harleen to detect him. The jumpsuit he had been wearing before was torn down the middle to get at his throat and chest during his procedure. There was a persistent drumming of his fingers along any surface he could find. He was utterly restless, _itching_ for some kind of release. His eyes shone a frighteningly clear green in the relative darkness. They never left her for a second. It scared Harley to her core.

“Hi,” she muttered remembering to slap herself later for that stupid remark. Fear did strange things to people. In this case it robbed Harley of every skill she gained from their last meeting. This wasn’t the mysterious patient who had given some disgusting pig what he deserved. She was now mentally sparring with a criminal who would rip her own throat out if she said the wrong thing.

His smile gleamed in the shadows. Sets of pearly white teeth provided a crude source of brightness. “Hiya, about time you showed up,” he jumped up on the table beginning a rapid pace of swinging his legs. “I was missing you.”

“You made that pretty clear,” Harleen took an instinctive step back towards the door. “Ripping out throats doesn’t seem like your style.”

“Secret to show business, Harley?” He didn’t wait for an answer as he spread his arms out wide like he was in front of millions of her. “Improvisation!”

“But why?” There it was again, the squeak that barely passed for her own voice. She tried to clear her throat to cover it up, but it was too late. It was always too late when it came to Jerome. He was faster than a speeding bullet when it came to detecting weakness.

A growl came from the boy opposite to her. She had never heard a more animal like noise come from someone she _assumed_ was human. With Jerome one could never be too sure as to what he was. “No, no, no.” His finger shot out to wag at her disapprovingly in synch with the clicks of his tongue. “You’re better than that, Harley.”

She knew why he did it of course. Some man was probably dead because of her. He wanted her to know that and to feel it. Harley prayed that her body was in such a removed state because of the shock of the afternoon. When she got home she’d mourn the orderly or at least she thought she would? There was not a lot of room in her head to think of it, but the only emotion she summoned up at the moment was… Indifference. He was just a tiny speck on the radar compared to all the things she had to battle with. That was an unsettling thing to come to terms with. She was sure anyone else would be thinking of the fact that he perished in agony in as the result of some infatuation. Then again, anyone else wouldn’t be standing a room with the very same person who committed the crime.

“See?” He chimed. He must have been reading her facial expressions. Harley really needed to get a hold on that. “I knew my little girlie was smart!”

Anger panged deep inside Harleen and for a brief moment red crossed her vision. She had more than enough of being controlled by her parents. She shuddered to think of what they would do if they found out perfect Harleen was in this situation. Their faces would be priceless. “There is no _my_ in this situation,” she snapped.

He practically _vibrated_ with glee as a giggle echoed in the small adobe. It was bubbling out of him in a stunted way that halted his speech. “Whatever you say, doll.”

“You got me here,” Harley started slowly as if talking to a person hard of hearing. “Just let him go.”

Jerome hummed and reached up his arms to stretch his torso. It was the first time she noticed how _thin_ he was. She was sure if she could see his bare chest his ribs would show. On the positive note she _might_ (emphasis on might) be able to easily take him in a fight. On the negative… Should there even be a negative? He wasn’t taking care of himself. She wanted to tell him to eat something and get some sleep.   _He doesn’t need another mommy_ , she chided herself. _He already killed the first one._  “Well...” He murmured, more to himself than to her. “I go to all this trouble, you see? Makes me think you’re being ungrateful with all this… Demanding after oh I don't know.” He put up his wrist to check a watch that wasn’t there.

“Two minutes,” he finished his voice dropping and fast. This was not a good sign. The lower his voice got the more danger Harley was in.

“Then what do _you_ want to talk about?” Her back was on the wall now. She thought it’d be best to take a brave step towards the darkness that encircled Jerome. He would most likely comment on her apprehension if she stayed put. “You didn’t take well to Dr. Young’s session.”

A brief cackle resounded in the room. Harley could practically hear the guards in the hallway shuffle further away. “She reminded me of my mother.” He droned. His voice reached to lilting halt as if he was preparing to attack.

“You _hated_ your mother,” Harley interrupted hoping it would give her extra time to prepare for an assault if need be. “You killed her.”

His fingers began to drum again. A accelerated staccato that wasn’t normal for anyone let alone someone who had exerted so much energy in the past few hours. “So, you fancy yourself a _doc-tor_ now? You wanna ask me _why_ I did it?” He hissed moving towards the scalpels. _Not good… Not good at all._ The next location for that sharp tool was in her chest. She was sure of it. “How it made me _feel_?”

His back was to her, it was more than a perfect opportunity to get a head start and finish him once and for all. He was vulnerable and he _wasn’t looking!_ Running was certainly not an option at this point. Not when she was so close. She could rid Gotham of this burden and keep people safe. No one would mourn him. Hell, she’d even be considered a hero for doing it. Her hand tightened on the pen. It was sharp enough to kill him if she aimed right. She could lie and say he had forced her hand… That he was going to hurt the doctor… She had no choice.

“No,” she said. If it was to herself or to Jerome she couldn’t tell. “How did you do it?”

Jerome’s head turned quickly at that. His features flitted with surprise. That was a new one. Maybe he was expecting her to kill him. It was possible he didn’t care either way if he lived or died, but with all of his antics he didn’t look like the type of person who would want their legacy to be stabbed before their prime. Only to be known as that degenerate criminal that caused a bit of trouble. That would just be a waste of his talents. Or whatever you’d want to call them.

“You read the papers, Harley.” Just like that he was back on the operating table. The distance between him and Harleen created a cold air about the room. He had made no move to touch her. The mere vague threat of it was terrifying enough to keep her on her toes. “Wasn’t the best way I’ll admit, but we can’t have a perfect ten out of ten every time.” His small gestures with his hands created larger than life shadows against the lamplight. It was like he was performing his own hand puppet show. Harley would have laughed if not for fact that a man would be dead if she didn’t negotiate the hell out of this.

“I want to hear it from you,” she said picking her voice up an octave. Femininity was a powerful weapon and sounding innocent was an even better one. She couldn’t count on five hands how many male teachers or officials she had fooled by using that tone. The scared schoolgirl had its effect on people. The wide eyed ingenue who just wanted so badly to know what the big powerful man had to say. It made her sick, but hey some people were pigs and it worked. Jerome had his very own trademarked version of it, he could appreciate it.

He did in fact appreciate it very much. He propped his chin on his hand in an animated sort of way. “You’re just so _gooooood_ , aren’t ya?” He almost sang it. Harleen remembered him doing the same thing to her name not so long ago.  “Knowing how to push a guy’s buttons.”

“You used a hatchet, right?” She said ignoring his previous comment. The quicker she got to the knitty gritty the quicker she could get the doctor out of this hellhole. Using basic information listed in every single one of his files was a good place to start.  

He made a dinging sound signaling her as correct. She felt it appropriate to move on. “You’re mom wasn’t a good person was she? She’d leave you for nights on end, beat you up, and you just couldn’t take it anymore.” Harley had read every report she could get her hands on. Testimonies from the circus brood were all there and their fingers pointed directly at Miss. Valeska for the source of Jerome’s insanity. She couldn’t help but feel a little bit sorry for him. No one deserved that.

“Never heard anyone say it like that,” he deadpanned. If it were not for his slump in body language she would assume he was being sarcastic. Was she actually getting somewhere in this conversation or was he leading her on to play right into his hand? Both were murky outcomes at best.  

“You lead her out to the hill,” she continued. She almost felt like she was there. The thought of the night air gave her a sudden chill. Jerome noticed it and a small smirk pulled at his lips. “She said something, she had to have said something. You were gonna let her live you were going to. She must have been cold.”

“ _Free-zing_ ,” Jerome seethed. He was full out grinning now. It was too late to stop herself. Like a moth to a flame Harley moved closer to him. It was all too much imagining the events of that night. The darker recesses of her mind wanted to play it over and over in an attempt to understand why he could do it. She just needed to get a little deeper. Just a little more and she’d know him.

“She turned her back, probably to look at the stars. You swung the hatchet over your head and you hit her.” Harleen could hear her voice getting high and breathy. It was like a switch had been turned inside her that prevented her from stopping. “You were going to end it there, but _something happened_.”

For the first time since they had met he was completely silent. Staring at her with that cheshire smile. There was only a small sliver of space that separated them. She had never been so close both mentally and physically to him. A need to be even closer sparked in Harley. This was beyond the point of unprofessional and into the valley of just plain insane. “You saw it… You saw how powerless she was and you kept swinging.” She could feel the heat from his body now just inches away. “After everything she had done she had _**nothing**_. Nothing to threaten you with. Nothing to hold you back from what you truly are.”

“And what’s that, Harley?” He was gazing at her with this enthralled expression on his face that she had never seen before. _Hook. Line. And sinker._ The key all along was to play to his nature, to become him. He just was a guy looking for a partner in crime.

“A monster,” she breathed finishing off her perfectly pitched psychoanalysis.

It was like watching something happen outside of herself instead of being right smack in the middle of the situation. She stood adjacent to the operating table her shoulder almost brushing Jerome’s. Her eyes kept trained on a particular place on the wall instead of him. If she looked at him it would all be over. His scrutiny would break the entire facade of professional therapist she had built in her last few sentences. Even then she didn’t feel entirely like a doctor when she spoke of murder so frivolously. It was like they were sharing something that no one else could partake on. To Harley relating to him had become easy, but what if that wasn’t so for others? What did that make her?

These thoughts were interrupted when his hand shot out faster than anything Harleen had ever seen and wrapped a punishing grip around her wrist. _Of course! You’re such an idiot!_ Her mind screamed. His fingers were dangerously long making sure that her entire wrist was covered by his hand. It could have been an intimate gesture if not for the fact that he was squeezing it tight enough to break. For such a skinny kid he sure packed muscle somewhere.

“Come on _Harls_ ,” he crooned to her. “One look won’t kill you.”

Oh, so he wasn’t going to torture her. He just wanted eye contact. It was perfectly reasonable to want to see the person you’re talking to. Harley almost slapped herself for the second time for justifying the fact that he was currently _destroying_ her bones because of this. Crazy wasn’t airborne, but Harleen was considering rechecking that fact as she relaxed her body to loosen his hold. The last emotion she should be feeling right now was calm. There must be a hell of a lot of shock in her system right now.

She craned her neck in order to get a good view. A gasp was barely stopped from leaving her throat when she realized how _close_ she was to him. She hadn’t necessarily considered his physical appearance in their time together. He had complimented her own, but she felt no need to return the favor. Sure, he didn’t look like most of the guys she knew, but there was something about his facial features that sparked a cord in Harley. His unusual hair color that almost burned in the blackness, his porcelain skin that looked to have never seen a day of sunlight, and his sharp green eyes. It was so foreign to see eyes as focused as his. There were a thousand different things going on in his brain, but right now all those thoughts were centered on her. It was as if he wanted to scorch a mark into her skin. This was the look of someone who wanted to _hurt_ her.

There was complete silence in the room only the sound of Harley’s heart beating in her ears. She knew struggling wouldn’t do any good in this situation. The moment she got free of him (if that was even possible) he’d take that scalpel and end the doctor’s life. “Why am I here?” She inquired, her voice shaking due to the adrenaline pumping through her veins.

“I asked for you,” he said slowly as if she had forgotten. He restrained her even tighter than before. She was going to have a bitch of a bruise when this was over. “I was wondering if you were the type of girl who liked fun. And oh, you and me are gonna have so much **_fun_ _!_** ”

He promptly used this advantage to shove her against the metal cabinet that must have held medical supplies. She hit it hard and her vision momentarily whited out as her head collided with the very solid surface. She had just had him in the palm of her hand moments ago and now she was on her ass with a possible concussion. _Nothing was ever predictable with him was it?_

Surprisingly enough he wasn’t laughing just looking at her with a slight grin. Or was it a sneer? She couldn’t tell because it was hard to see anything at this point with the way her head was spinning. She had taken a few falls in cheerleading but being purposely slammed into a harsh object was a new one to add to the injuries list. She had to get up. She had to save… _The…_

She was blacking out and fast. There had to be a way to save this because she knew the second her eyes closed she was dead. This must have been the plan all along. Get her into a submissive state and then watch her die… Just for laughs.

Harley made a frustrated noise as she tried to lift herself up on her feet and slipped to the ground yet again. Now this was just getting pathetic. He couldn’t have weighed a lot more than her at this stage and he was beating her to a pulp. “Is this the part where you kill me?” She rasped out.

Jerome’s lips turned down in an unhappy expression along with a shake of his head. “Nah, I’m not gonna kill you Harley.” He said it so noncommittally like he was rejecting an invitation to a party. “I promised you fun and don’t worry I keep my _prom-ises_.”

With that he jumped down from the operating table and sauntered over to her limp form. He leaned down to get some leverage and put his hands under her armpits. Harley briefly wondered if he was going to tickle her or something before he lifted her body from her underarms. She was pressed against him and could feel every contour through the thin jumpsuit. A pang resided inside her stomach that was most definitely concerning. There was no way in all of hell that the same person who had given her the most serious injury in her life was also giving her butterflies like they were going to prom together. Despite herself she liked the way he felt.

His body was shockingly warm compared to the cool ease of his hands. Harleen always found that her hands sweated especially when she was nervous, which was a normal emotion around Jerome. His didn’t show a hint of this at least from the little experience she got when he was clasping her wrist. He seemed more like a human being with the heat that radiated from his chest.

She tried to fight him off as best she could, but with her head in the state it was in she was no match with her weak pushes. She swore she could feel his chest rumble in delight at that. _Bastard._

“Looks like the day is yours,” he mumbled taking her somewhere. “Don’t worry about little old me. I’m a spring chicken I have all the time in the world.”

“N-no,” Harleen tried to whisper. “Stop it.”

Now he was laughing. Every reaction it caused in his form went straight to hers. It was like she was inside his skin. That was a creepy thing to contemplate. “When I bust out of here. Don’t wait up for me I’ll find you myself.” That was when Harleen realized he was opening the door to the medical room. His words were being pressed against her neck so no one else could hear. “Afterall, the gentleman’s always gotta take out his girl in _style_!”

That was when Harley passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said I didn't condone the Joker/Harley dynamic at all, yeah this is not going to be a roses and butterflies type of fic because violence has always been a large part of their relationship. But it was soooo much fun to write this chapter I hope I did their chemistry justice bc it would have been electric on the show ugh missed opportunities make me cry...
> 
> I got pretty blatant with the references to The Dark Knight, Silence of the Lambs, Mad Love, etc. Sorry guys I'm a sucker for parallels and references.


	7. stranded in this spooky town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley encounters a not so familiar face

  
_Open up your eyes_   
_You keep on crying_   
_Baby I'll bleed you dry_   
_Skies are blinking at me_   
_I see a storm bubbling up from the sea_   


_And it's coming closer_

- **Kings of Leon, Closer**  


Hospitals were supposed to be a calming place. A location where one was to recuperate from whatever blow had been dealt to their health. Maybe that’s why they were always white. To give a feeling of safety and purity. Right now it was just pounding the headache even harder into Harley’s brain.

Every time she attempted to get a little leeway in her bed she would be halted. The sheets were almost like shackles that restrained her. She remembered waking up to wonder if Jerome had tied her up in a fit of inspiration. Only to realize that her parents were there and that would just be _odd_ if he invited her folks to this.

As for her parents they didn’t have the time or energy to be furious with her for risking her life. From what she had heard from Dr. Young’s brief visit to her bedside Jerome had surrendered himself to the staff and the doctor was currently at home with his family. No doubt that his leave of absence would become permanent, but he was alive. She hadn’t bothered to ask about her status as a hero in Arkham as she knew Dr. Young had taken most of the credit for herself. It didn’t weigh as heavily on Harley as she thought it would. It seemed almost trivial considering the fact that her own doctor had told her that a concussion could have been the least of her problems if she wasn’t rushed to the hospital in time.

Her mother and father made quick work of making sure Dr. Young did not stay long. Their anger with the woman was far beyond anything she had seen from her parents. They had already threatened to sue for the eighth time that day and by now it was getting tedious. Harley had explained to them that it was fully her choice to go into that room therefore Arkham was not to blame. Besides, she had already signed agreements stating that they weren’t responsible for anything when she started the internship.

With all these accusations and legal meetings flying about in her cramped hospital room her parents neglected to mention the fact that she single handedly caused Arkham’s most notorious patient to back down and surrender. _Wasn’t that worth something?_ Not even a good job was shot her way for her efforts. She tried to remember that they were under a lot of stress due to her antics, but it still felt bitter.

However, all the heroism felt relatively shallower than Harleen expected. When she had woken up she cried with the relief of being alive at all but after that wave of emotion subsided there was not a lot think about. She hadn’t cared to learn the name of the man she rescued or even confirm that he had a family at all. The condition of the orderly who had been injured was still unknown to her. Most likely he was dead and Harley didn’t make good on her promise to mourn him. It was more like a dull irritating ache in her stomach. She assumed that’s not what grief was supposed to feel like. The only thing her mind could concentrate on was _well…_

Her wrist was in pretty bad condition. Her doctor noted she was lucky it wasn’t mangled beyond repair. A bing black and purple ring surrounded the expanse of it. It would stick around for a few weeks before fading out of existence. The bone hadn’t been damaged like Harley originally assumed. It was still wrapped in a thin cast that her parents insisted upon.

It wasn’t her first stint in a hospital. Gymnastics was a dangerous hobby and accidents happened. They never usually confined her in a bed for days and had her folks on the phone with Arkham officials almost every hour. It was usually a quick visit with her doctor, an x-ray, then a fitted cast, and off on her merry way she went. There was no analysis for _“psychological trauma”_ in cheerleading or gymnastics. Harley knew why she was here. The doctors wanted to know if Jerome had gotten inside her head and messed her up in their time together. It was obvious they would not be seeing each other again despite Dr. Young’s promise. There was nothing the older woman could do anyway. It was possible she was to be fired for their little joint stunt.

“How are you feeling today, Harleen?” Her doctor was standing above her while her mom and dad looked on with worry etched into their features. He was checking her vital signs on his chart but the woman standing next to him gave all the indication she needed that a psychologist was also here to speak to her. Harley had been _“concerningly passive_ ” these last few days and everyone was expecting her to crack at any given moment. It was almost fun to defy them all and keep a calm attitude. There was nothing to cry about in her mind. She had done what she was supposed to do and at this point she should have been let go to live the rest of her life.

“I’m fine,” she responded trying to shift in the sheets and immediately getting a headache as a result. “My head hurts.”

“You suffered a pretty nasty injury,” he sighed looking down at her. “I would suggest to put you on medication when you leave until the headaches subside.”

“And when am I leaving?” Harleen groaned.

“You still have some time with us so we can determine that you’re healthy,” the psychologist interjected.

“You said my wrist was okay. All I need are those pills and I’m right as rain.” Harley attempted a smile. Neither of them returned it. Their grave expressions were beginning to piss her off. She was perfectly fine. Why couldn’t they just leave her alone?

“Would you mind if we’re excused for a moment?” The psychologist asked. The doctor nodded and proceeded to to vacate the room. Good riddance, Harleen thought.

Her parents were still standing on the far side of the room clutching their coats. They hadn’t left the hospital since she was admitted and the gesture touched her heart somewhat. At the same time their jobs were being left alone and the money being lost was evident in Harley’s mind. If any of their rent was missed it was back to the Narrows with them. She could see the urgency weighing on them when they assumed she was asleep. There would be constant calls and hushed whispers. She morbidly wished they would leave her behind and take care of business. The last thing she wanted was to return to the Narrows where murder was just as frequent as it was in Arkham.

“Mr. and Mrs. Quinzel would you mind standing outside with Dr. Neals?” The psychologist cooed in her best soothing voice. Lull them into a calm state so they will obey any order you give them. That was just _textbook_.

They nodded albeit a little hesitantly and exited the room while exchanging a look of encouragement to Harleen. They wanted her out as much as she wanted out. A continuation of normalcy was what they all needed. They were convinced that she would be taking an exit from her internship and resuming gymnastics. She had no choice about leaving Arkham, but she would find a way back. She had to find a way back.

“How has your time here been treating you?” The psychologist’s voice broke through her thoughts. She was sitting a chair next to her bed scribbling on her notepad. Harley wondered if she was actually writing or just drawing unicorns or… _Something._

“I feel well rested,” she perked up. The faster she could ace this psych evaluation the faster she would be in her own bed.

“I’m going to ask you some questions, Harleen.” She said. “If any of them make you uncomfortable we can stop.”

Harley nodded.

“Did you have a pre-established relationship with Jerome Valeska before the incident that took place in the medical room?” The physiologist asked almost timidly. It was as if she was afraid Jerome was going to jump from the shadows and hurt her. Or that Harley was going to do it herself.

“I spoke to him once before in Arkham,” Harleen recounted. Better to tell the truth the whole truth and nothing but the truth… _Heh._ “We talked about my name and he wanted to change it. I let him thinking no harm done.”

“Do you understand the length of his… _Obsession_ with you?”

That was a new word. “Obsession?”

“Since your leave of absence I have been observing sessions with Jerome,” Harley tried to ignore the pang in her stomach at the fact that this woman was using his first name. They couldn't be _that_ close. “He is persistent about you. He rarely wishes to discuss anything else.”

“How is that my fault?” Her temper was rising and fast. “We talked a few times. How could I have known he was going to latch on like this?!” She hadn’t noticed the edge in her voice until the psychologist scooted back in her chair. _Was she afraid?_

Harley shook her head. What the hell was happening to her? Maybe he had messed her up inside or something. She was becoming more irritable since she had woken up and pinned it down to being stir crazy. Once she was home this would all go away. “I’m sorry.”

The psychologist pursed her lips and moved her chair back to its original spot. “It’s quite alright. There was no possible way to predict this. Have you been thinking about him?”

She hadn’t been thinking about anything else to be rightly honest. The way her body felt when he touched her was not normal. He had given her head injuries minutes before and then her hormones were singing opera just from some physical contact. She had boyfriends in the past. It was all very kid friendly stuff. If they put her arm around her or _try_ to kiss her she’d simply shake her head and move on. Single life gave Harleen much more time to focus on her books or sports. Those types of feelings were best set for the future when she had a stable career. She tried to tell herself that she hadn’t been touched in a while and that’s why she felt attraction. Her parents weren’t the hugging types and the boyfriends had been years ago. She still could feel the burn of Jerome’s body into hers. It was like she had been marked.

“Not really,” she lied.

“You suffered some incredible mental strain. We all feel it is best if your internship be terminated with full credit,” the psychologist said.

All of Harley’s fears came screaming into fruition. She should be happy that at least the internship wasn’t for nothing, she’d receive enough credits to get into any college she pleased. But not being able to return to Arkham set her completely off. It wasn’t even necessarily Arkham that she longed for. The cold grey palate wasn’t great for brightening up someone’s day and the inmates didn’t enjoy her company all that much. It was something else. Her need to see Jerome again frightened her almost as much as the boy himself. He had made an oath to resume their time together and the fact that she wanted that was unsettling. No one had ever shown so much attention to her as he had. Sure, there were the medals and honors she had been given for her achievements, but that was just cheap material. He had looked at her and saw something more than what everyone else saw. He saw potential.

_Not healthy, not healthy, not healthy!_ Harleen repeated in her mind. “What has he said about me?” She found herself asking.

The psychologist wrinkled her nose in distaste. “That’s not your concern anymore. I know you feel the need to help him, but that’s Arkham’s job now.”

“Maybe he can’t be helped,” Harleen mumbled staring at her hands. She couldn’t stop the remark before it hit the air like a chill.

“Everyone can be rehabilitated,” the psychologist said with a confidence that made her stomach turn. “I know it’s hard to have faith in that, but someday you’ll see.”

Harley tried to imagine Jerome as _rehabilitated_. The red headed boy minus grins and the attitude was a strange thing. It was possible that the timid person he imitated on occasions was what he really was hiding inside. Pushing it all down behind this grandeur of insanity. However, Harleen doubted it. She knew what he was now. That was not something to ever come back from as she wasn’t sure there was anything to go back to. It didn’t matter if his parents were the kindest most loving people in the world. He had been like this from the start. Harley almost felt it a lucky chance of fate that his neglectful mother had been the one to die instead of someone who actually tried.

“You did a very heroic thing.” The psychologist put on that faux soothing tone again she used to make her parents leave. It gave Harley the urge to sock her in the jaw. “But you have to learn to give yourself a break. You’re already exhibiting signs of irritation and this could lead to a break down if you do not pace yourself. ”

The psychologist was standing now and making her way towards the door. Harleen noted the distance the woman put between herself and the bed she occupied.

It was the air Jerome carried about him. He had passed it on straight to her. Anyone who he expressed such an interest in was pegged to be a _watch out for this one_ type. She had been able to relate to him in some strange way. To put herself into his shoes must had set off a few warning bells with the psychology department in Arkham. Harley was surprised that the warning bells weren’t going off in her own mind. She was strangely apathetic about the fact that she had relived a murder with the most notorious guy in a insane asylum. And that touching this said murderer was the closest she’d ever been to feeling turned on.

Harleen buried her face in her hands. “What the hell is going on with you?” She murmured. Talking to herself wasn’t the best bet in not going crazy.

When the door swung open she expected it to be her parents with loads of questions on what the psychologist had to say. Instead it was one of the hospital employees dressed in crisp (and headache inducing) white. Her meals were brought to her on such a tight schedule that Harley felt like she was back in Arkham.

Except as an inmate.

“Dessert time Miss Quinzel,” the worker chirped. Despite the annoying color palette in their uniforms she did like the people who resided around the hospital. They didn’t carry that artificial personality that most of the doctors sported. They were genuinely happy to help out.  That was a strange thing.

“Not puddin' again,” Harley groaned. The hospital seemed to only serve four things on their menu. Rubbery eggs for breakfast, a pathetic ham sandwich for lunch, something that vaguely looked like meatloaf for dinner, and pudding for dessert. Except it wasn’t the kind of pudding that was well… _Normal._ It was a solid mass that needed a pickaxe to get through.

The orderly smiled good-naturedly as he put the brown block that was supposed to be pudding on her propped up tray. “And I almost forgot,” he swung around to the cart where he carried all the wrapped up meals. “You got another flower delivery.”

The flowers and get well cards had been coming in great numbers since Harleen was admitted. Every person she had ever seemed to know plus people she was sure she had never met sent her something to show their support. She wanted to tell them all that it was just a head injury and the more they sent the more painful thank you notes she’d have to write.

The worker produced a stunning bouquet of purple roses from the small space in his cart. It almost looked like a magic trick of some kind. Flowers weren’t that much of a common thing in a dead environment like Gotham. You could buy them at the shops, but they costed money and there wasn’t any use for them besides for a sweetheart. Harley had never considered herself much of a plant person. She had a cactus a couple of years ago, but that didn’t really work out in the right direction.

“They’re beautiful,” Harleen whispered with a grin tugging at her lips.

The worker smiled and wasted in no time in discarding the dandelions that held in the only vase next to her bed. She made no objection to this move. They had been from a cousin or something. It didn’t matter. There was a strange need to have the them right next to her. The roses fell into the vase effortlessly and the man gave her one last look before exiting the room to make more deliveries.

Harley couldn’t help but peer at the flowers. The stems were a green that she couldn’t recall seeing in a while and matched with purple. The combination was incredibly tasteful. She had never imagined those two colors going so well with each other.

That was when she noticed a small card hanging from one of the particularly green stems. It could have just been the tag from wherever the flowers had been purchased. She felt compelled to reach out and grab at it. She then saw that it was not a price tag, but a message written in somewhat shaking handwriting.

_Feel better soon_

_-J_

* * *

 

She waited till nightfall to make her escape. Her parents had gone home for the first time in days after she convinced them she was able to make it a night on her own. All their belongings still littered her room, which meant she didn’t have much time until they made their return.

After the unpleasant business of getting her I.V. out all Harley had to do was change out of her hospital gown. She threw on one of her mother’s old sweaters and some jeans paired with an army jacket she remembered storing in her employee locker at Arkham. She had deftly tied her hair into her preferred method of pigtails now that Dr. Young couldn’t scold her for it.

The aftermath of a gang war was currently hitting the doctors so it was easy to slip out undetected while the staff ran around like geese to treat the injured criminals. Cobblepot’s control on Gotham was getting more erratic, which made it harder to navigate the city unscathed. Her doctors barely had time to attend to her due to all the violence. She was lucky to even get a private room in the first place.

Her first exposure to air that wasn’t muffled by the stench of sickness was almost pleasant until the headache hit her again. It made the edges of her vision fuzzy as she tried to find the nearest bus stop and start from there. The address she was headed to stuck in her brain and she was thankful the concussion didn’t rob her of her memories. The last thing she needed was to be locked up in the G.C.P.D headquarters for wandering around too late at night. The only thing that could make that situation worse was a knocked up brain that caused her to act even more crazy then everyone automatically assumed she was.

Getting a bus to the Narrows was easier than she originally had planned. Her early years of experience there had become useful as she knew to keep herself unoticable. She was tucked in a corner on the back of the bus that was (thankfully) empty possibly due to the gang war wrapping up.

She absentmindedly picked at the single rose she had taken from the bouquet. The question of how he had gotten them to her was simple. He must had bribed someone and it was known that he was a friend of the most powerful inmate in Arkham. The thing that plagued Harley’s mind was why he had even bothered to contact her. She was well familiar with his obsession, but last she checked he had slammed her into a cabinet. Then again how many times had Jerome exhibited normal behavior when it came to anything? Courting was no different than the rest. It was just as violent as his nature.

The bus came to a stop outside an old apartment building that looked to be fast on the decay. This wasn’t a rare sight in Gotham, but the address rang clear in Harleen’s mind which made it the exact residence she was looking for. She exited the bus to find remnants of Cobblepot’s gang leering around, possibly nursing their wounds. None of them looked particularly interested in a fight. That made it all the more effortless to waltz into the complex.

There was no one manning the front entrance. The main hallway consisted of a flight of stairs that looked incredibly unstable and half eaten wallpaper. Even the boards creaked in protest when Harley tried to take a step without waking anyone. It was past midnight after all and she was ever courteous.

The sound of a door swinging open caused Harley to jump. She really had to stop getting so worked up over those types of things. “Who’s there?” A voice called to her.

She spun around to find an old man clothed in a ratty dressing gown. He clutched his cane defensively and she knew he had no qualms about whacking her with it if she presented a threat. “Mr. Cicero?” Harleen raised her hands and then remembered that he couldn’t even see her doing it anyway.

“I told the reporters before that I am not speaking to them.”

“I’m Harleen Quinzel, I work at Arkham… Well I used to.” She took an experimental step forward. “I know your son.”

Mr. Cicero’s stance seemed to change at this. His posture became much less tense. “How am I supposed to believe you?” The accusatory nature of the question set Harleen a little off. However, his tone was softer. _Yahtzee!_ It was almost getting too easy to hook people. After dealing with Jerome talking to anyone seemed like child’s play. She felt like she owed him her thanks.

Harley fished her I.D. badge from her jeans. She stretched out her arm make sure the blind man got it in his grasp. She knew that just by touching it he could tell it was real and not some cheap knock off a reporter would carry. There was no doubt in her mind that many had tried this trick before.

“How did you find me?” He asked rubbing his thumb over the card. He didn’t need to tell her it was real, they both knew.

“Not hard, sir.” She said matter of factly. “Your address was in some of the files I read back in Arkham. I have a very good memory.”

“You should come in,” he gestured towards his own door that lead to his apartment. “I have tea brewing and you seem to need it.”

He didn’t wait for her before wandering inside. She took an easy pace after him to enter his poor excuse for a living space. The floors were grimy and barren. The few items of furniture were a tacky color and looked to have been well worn out years ago. The only semi-decent thing in the abode was a small refrigerator that Harley guessed held very little food. She had not eaten since dinner time as getting through that pudding was not a task she wanted to take on.

“Why are you here, Miss Quinzel?” He was standing by the steaming kettle now. “Shouldn’t you be in the hospital?”

“How did you-”

“Hospitals always have a certain… Aroma to them. Hard to shake off.” He murmured.

“Your son put me in that hospital.” Harley countered.

Mr. Cicero let out a long suffering sigh. “I cannot tell you that I am surprised by this.” He turned around to almost face her. “Are you here for closure, Miss Quinzel? Do you want to know **_why_** he did what he did to you?”

“You can say that.” Harleen said. “But then again I think I already know.”

“Then you can understand that I don’t have an answer for you.” He touched the kettle with a fearless hand and scrunched his nose to find it still lukewarm. “He was a sweet boy, but sometimes I wonder-”

“If it was all a cover up.” Harley completed.

“Exactly.”

“I don’t really know why I’m here to be honest,” she sighed striding over to the curtains that blew harshly. “I talked to him in Arkham. I was kind of an unofficial therapist.”

“How old are you, Miss Quinzel?” He had ignored her previous statement in its entirety. Anywhere else Harley would have been annoyed at such rudeness, but she was busting into his house at some ungodly hour of the night. She gave him a free pass.

“I’m seventeen,” she said a bit hesitantly.

Mr. Cicero chuckled at that. It wasn’t even a hint of the laugh his own son sported. She felt disappointed. “I bet those doctors at Arkham thought you could relate to him because you were so young didn’t they?”

“I suppose so,” she didn’t want to believe it. However, there was no denying that her appearance and age had landed her in the position she was in now. Jerome would have not given her a second glance if she did not look the way she did. She didn’t want to be known for it, but it was an advantage none the less.

“Years ago back in the circus his mother, Lila, was off on another spree.” He shook his head recalling the memory. “You have to understand, she was a complicated woman. She had no business being a mother, but neither did I in being a father.

“Jerome was alone for days before anyone noticed. He didn’t tell a soul that his mother had run off again. I found him in that trailer all alone with… Nothing. Lila had taken everything with her no one was even sure she was coming back.”

Harley found herself digging her nails into the palms of her hands. She wanted to refrain because getting blood on this man’s floors was not the best act of politeness. She couldn’t help it. The images that tore through her mind were too painful to bring into full realization. Before the Jerome that violently reacted to everything there was just a scared little boy.

“He was always so quiet. Never said said a word unless spoken to. We all knew she beat him, but we couldn’t even comprehend what to do about it. It’s been my greatest regret that I didn’t take him from that dreaded circus and never looked back.” He began to pour the tea into two slightly cracked mugs. His technique was flawless.

“We waited for her to come back,” he continued. “He began to walk outside again without fear of seeing her. One night after a particularly disastrous show I saw him playing with a puppy that must have wandered into our compound. I remembered wishing for Lila to never come back. That she might as well be dead for all I cared. The boy was happy and that was what mattered.

“But… He then reached out and… He snapped the dog’s neck. He couldn’t have been older than eight and he killed that dog with the skill and strength of someone who had been doing it for years. I was terrified and suddenly I wanted Lila back. It was a horrible thought, but what was I to do?”

“Did she come back?” Harleen’s eyes were on the drapes that continued to fight with the wind.

“She always did,” his voice echoed. “I will admit I was cruel to the boy after that. I was scared of him. I’m sure you can relate.”

Knowing that his tale was over Harley felt it her place to speak. “The thing is, I’m not scared of him. Not really. I just can’t seem to get him out of my skin. I’ve tried to not think about him, but I can’t…”

“So you decided to visit me?” He questioned placing a mug that must have been for her on the counter.

“You decided to let me in.”

“I must admit. I am a selfish man,” Mr. Cicero took a swing of his own tea. “I haven’t seen my son since… How is he?”

“He’s the same. Likes to cause trouble and laugh about it,” she chuckled to herself. “You know, the usual.”

“He has us both trapped, Miss Quinzel.” He joined her by the windows. Harleen was still amazed that he knew where she was every moment without the benefit of sight. “We cannot stay away from him and he hurts us in turn.”

“I can walk away,” she leaned against the tacky flower wallpaper that only sported one section of the wall. “I lost my internship I’m never going to see him again.”

“Did you know I was a fortune teller when I worked at the circus?” He didn’t wait for her answer before continuing. “After I testified against my son they banished me. They told me they never would turn against their own like that and I was no longer fit to be with them.”

“I’m sorry.” It was insincere and her tone didn’t do a good job of hiding it. She wondered if she could send her family to prison to save herself. Maybe that was where Jerome inherited his cruelty.

“I look at you, Harley.” _Wait how does he know my nickname?_ Harley thought. She made no effort in telling him that. “I see two paths for you. One forever intertwined with his and another… More pleasant outcome.”

“I’ve been told to stay away from him enough times Mr. Cicero.” Harleen said. “It hasn’t been working out for me so far.”

“This isn’t just some suggestion,” his eyes stared into nothing as he moved to peer at her. “My son will _ruin_ this city and you will help him do just that. You will be right at his side while he tears apart lives, laughing along with him. He will _destroy_ you through and through until there is nothing left and you’ll let him.”

“Why?” Harley breathed barely able to form thoughts let alone words.

“Because you will love him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUUUNNNNN!! Oh wow guys this was fun as hell to write Mr. Cicero is a pretty fascinating guy to write. He cares for his son but at the same time he was a pretty bad father as well as the fact that Jerome couldn't have been saved at that point. Also as far as the fortune telling goes I see it more as perceptiveness than actual supernatural stuff I'm more of a Jim Gordon when it comes to that. 
> 
> So I hoped you liked it guys! This is where the story finally gets into the nitty gritty starting with an... ESCAPE


	8. when you take out the trash, must have taken out your heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jerome sees a new opportunity and Harley pays a visit to the Gotham City Police Department.

  
_Pull me out my bed in the earliest morning_   
_Where you been? I'm in trouble for something_   
_Well, I don't wanna be here, that's why I'm acting out,_   
_I wanna flee, but I don't know how_   


_**\- Wild Belle, Happy Home** _

“Someone tell me a funny story.” Babs sighed impatiently.

Jerome took this opportunity to look up from what he had been doing. Turns out it was absentmindedly tracing letters onto the hard metal of the table. ( _H-A-R-L-E-Y._ )

Barbara was currently sprawled upon Richard Sionis’s lap and having her toenails painted by the big oaf whose name escaped him at the moment. Her little piggies sparkled red like blood. Did he mention that he _liked_ her?

“I have a good one!” Sionis piped up. _Always eager to please the ladies…_ “So when I was in college, I played for the varsity polo team and I had a string of ponies...”

He automatically knew that this was most certainly not worth his time and continued to trace the letters again. The shapes were getting more crooked as he delved deeper into thoughts of… From what he had heard around Arkham his little _Har-ley_ had been let go for their foray and after ending her stay at the hospital she was never to return. It had deprived him of some much needed fun. He even considered convincing the doctors that he was stable enough to see his father. Just to choke the life from him as soon as he entered the room… He was truly that bored.

Greenwood was eyeing Barbara over Jerome’s shoulder. That man really needed to learn not to touch things that weren’t his. He looked inclined to ask Jerome about what he was ghost writing, but must have decided against it. It was best for him anyway as he would have had no qualms about killing him at this point.

They had taken away all his utensils and replaced them with… _Sporks_ in light of the incident between him and the cannibal. If not he would have gone for the neck this time. To watch the pig choke on his own blood would be an experience to say the least. He wondered what Babs would think of it.

“H… A...” The oaf began to spell out lazily as Sionis rambled on. Everyone normally tuned him out when he spoke his few words. Jerome was surprised that he could even read what he was writing.

“Shshshhshsh. You’ll strain your brain.” Jerome cooed as if to a child and continued.

The loud metal creaking of the gate to the common hall being opened didn’t even pause Sionis. “Greetings!” A boisterous shout called to all of them. _Oh goodie, another one!_ Maybe someone to have fun with. At least he shut up Sionis for a brief period. “I am Zaardon, the Soul Reaper!”

_Or maybe not…_ People needed to be stop being so frustrating. “So I had these ponies,” Sionis pushed on trying to keep the pretty lady’s interest. Jerome knew it was perfect timing to delve back into _Harley-land._

Everyone in Arkham was well aware of his… _Harley Thing_ at this point. In art therapy he had taken to drawing crude stick figures with blonde hair and other _assessments_. It was fun to make them so blind to his other attributes and focus wholly on his _obsessive disorder_. He wasn’t a guy with many plans, but keeping the attention on her benefitted for his _in the works_ escape. He wasn’t very keen on spending the rest of his days in some ratty jumpsuit. Torturing doctors and orderlies became a bit old hat. There weren’t that many **_smiles_** around the place anymore. Well there were considering the fact that the last mental breakdown of a doctor had been weeks ago… Just not the kind of smiles _he_ wanted.

She had made no effort to seek him out. It was a little disappointing for him to be pulling all the weight in this… _Relationship_. Ownership was sort of a two way street. Or was it _nine tenths_ of a street? Or was that something else? It didn’t really matter… What did matter was that Harley was _meandering_ about Gotham without so much as a box of chocolates sent his way. He couldn’t necessarily blame her. If he was in the outside world he wouldn’t do much about her if she was locked up, but hey he was a _catch of a guy_! There weren’t many opportunities to butter him up.

He had spent his time other than scaring the guards into helping him escape in wondering what to do to her once he got her. Oh there was no way out of it for her. If she even wanted to avoid it (which he doubted) the little Harley-rainbow would lead him straight to her pot o’gold. It would be easy to snuff her out like a flickering light the second she laid eyes on him. It depended really on the situation. There was a possibility that she was never special at all and would end up being like everyone else... _Screaming, sniveling, crying, begging… Yawn._ That was even more boring that Sionis’s story.

Or… She could be _happy_ to see him. Now that was just a delicious thought. He wasn’t expecting smiles and giggles. Afterall, he was kind of a sick guy (ha)... But if there was just a glimmer in her eye at his presence. The same one when he was debating whether or not to make her incapable of using her wrist. It would have been hilarious to see the shock on her face as he cracked the bones beyond repair. However, a thought stopped him. She might need that wrist someday if they were ever to… _Do something_ together.

The people he was with at the moment did not have a high life expectancy. He had played little games in his head of how he was to kill each of them when the time came. Even Babs had to go eventually. Sure, she could play second fiddle for a while, but there was no loyalty between them and that ex of a detective was going to get her if he didn’t first. He sort of hoped Jimbo wouldn’t beat him to it as there were many ways he wanted to take her out. Making her swallow her own nail polish was at the top of his list.

Harley on the other hand was a _survivor_. He was sure even if he wanted to snap her slender neck or cut her up to the point beyond recognition he wouldn’t. That would just be squandering a potential hench(wo)man or even an escape hatch if he needed it. She was the type of girl that wanted to be led. Why else would she enter a room with him alone? Why else would she talk to him after he _stabbed_ someone? Why else would she had kept his flowers by her bedside? (The orderly had been very generous in exchanging that _infor-mation_.) He was sort of an unstoppable force and she an object that wanted to be caught right up in the destruction.

And she’d be _good_ … Oh, she would be very good indeed. Picturing her roughing up some bank patron while he tortured the clerk got him more riled up than anything. She had what any memorable performer needed and that was… _Pizazz!_ Auditions were coming to a close and the first act was about to begin! _Time to get the leading lady ready!_

“And the maître d' says, ‘you can’t bring them in here-’” Sionis’s particularly cringe worthy French accent made Jerome wonder that with enough pressure if a spork could break through skin.

“Hear me slaves!” The new guy roared. “My patience is wearing thin! Surrender your souls to my mercy. Or I swear by the master! I shall feast on your pain! I shall gorge on your torment! I shall crush you like a **_bug_**.”

Feasting on pain and gorging on torment sounded like interesting activities to Jerome. Maybe this guy was worth a shot. Anyone who stood on a table and delivered a completely off the cuff monologue sparked at least a partial smirk from Jerome. If anything else he would be fun to toy around with for a few days before making him choke on his pills… _Or_ _something_. He could figure out how to get him later.

_This_ … _Whoever it was_ … Was currently keeling over to cough up his own lung. His lug of a body hit the table hard… It reminded Jerome of how fragile _her_ head had been when he slammed it into the wall. Even if this guy was on his back that didn’t stop the coughing that now was just some gurgling wet noises. Jerome hadn’t witnessed death in quite a while and it would be nice to get the ball rolling again.

A blue mist of some sort began to seep from his throat and oh… _That’s why_ … Jerome stood up in recognition of what was going on. Turns out you didn’t need to do _everything_ by yourself.

He grinned one last time before the gas knocked him out.

* * *

 

After being released from the hospital Harleen’s parents had put her on full house arrest. There was to be no fooling about outside the premises and if there was she had to at least be secret about it because if they found out she was toast. She was trying to get into their good graces so they would allow her to go to the next cheerleading tournament. She had been training for an extended period of time and pushing through her headache in order to convince her coach she was fine. She didn’t like it when her work meant nothing.

Harley was crouched over her kitchen counter munching on some cereal her parents deemed appropriate. She was trying to read the newest issue of the Gotham Gazette. It was mostly boring outlines of the latest city activities. A new commissioner was appointed, but those matters were not extremely effective on her life. Cobblepot would still be the king of the roost or… _Whatever groups penguins hung out in._

She was incredibly startled to her the ring of her doorbell. Her parents had gone to work hours ago and no one visited when they weren’t home. It could be one of them stopping by to check if she was obeying their rules. Or it could be someone looking to rob her house. She had heard about criminals in Gotham doing doorbell robberies these days. Much more polite and less hassle.

Her curiosity stopped her from staying in her spot as she eyed through the peephole that was gladly placed on her door. Seeing who was on the other side she threw open the door. Noting her appearence of pajamas, messy pigtails, and glasses halfway down her nose she should have made a bit more effort.

“Dr. Young?” Harley questioned as the woman herself stood on her doorstep.

“Miss. Quinzel... There’s not much time to speak here.” The doctor looked _wrecked_ for lack of a better word. The dark circles under her eyes, her frazzled hair, and torn up clothes made her feel a little bit better about her own attire. “Can you get ready in five minutes?”

“Why? What’s happened?”

Dr. Young wrinkled her nose in irritation. “There’s been a breakout at Arkham. Six inmates have escaped. Jerome Valeska was one of them.”

* * *

 

Harleen was in her red blouse, jeans, and lab coat before the two minute mark passed. She settled herself into Dr. Young’s car and proceeded to tie her hair into a bun. The way the older woman stepped on the gas Harley wondered if they were going to die in an accident before Jerome could even think of their demise.

“Where are we going?” Harley asked pushing her glasses to frame her face.

“G.C.P.D,” Dr. Young answered trying to navigate traffic. “They’re having a conference on the escaped inmates. I’m not technically supposed to bring you, but it’s better for my conscience if I don’t leave the vulnerable teenage girl home alone. You need all the knowledge you can get on this. It doesn’t take a genius to realize he will target you.”

“The psychologist at the hospital told me he was obsessed.” She could see the image of the G.C.P.D building coming closer.

“That’s not a lie, Harleen.” There wasn’t even pause in Dr. Young using her first name now. _Stress did strange things to people._ “I was surprised you were not the first person he went after. He made it very clear he wished to.”

Harley couldn’t necessarily call the knotting in her stomach fear. More like a burst of anxiety before something important was supposed to happen. She normally felt this way when about to do a routine for gymnastics.

“When I was at the hospital I visited his father. He warned me about getting too close to him.” Dr. Young shot her a look that almost made her shrivel up. “I don’t know what I was thinking… I just want to understand him.”

“That sounds like the downfall of a psychologist.” The doctor was parking amongst a variety of cop cars. “I know how you feel about this I truly do, but whatever you are feeling towards this boy _is not real_. It is merely your desire to peer into his mind. You will never understand him, I doubt he even understands himself.”

With that the woman climbed gracefully from the car and Harley followed suit. The G.C.P.D was buzzing even from the outside. The two had to do their fair share of pushing through reporters in order to even get inside. Dr. Young flashed her _get into anywhere_ I.D badge and the doors were opened for them.

Harleen had never been in the police station before. There was really no cause to be. Straight A gymnastic stars didn’t spend their time with the mostly crooked police. The place was more organized on the inside with a variety of cops, doctors, and even some criminals looking on from their holding cells gathered around a projector. She was a bit baffled that the desk of Jim Gordon was so incredibly close to the cages of people who wanted nothing more than his head on a stick. Now that was bravery.

The new commissioner circled around confidently. This was most definitely not her first rodeo. Even from the back Harley could feel the in charge aura the woman carried. She was impressed.

Close to the commissioner’s hip Detective Gordon shifted ever so slightly. It was odd seeing him outside of heroic newspaper articles and occasional interviews. He seemed to have a glow of hope about him that lulled everyone into a calmer state. There was no denying that he was Gotham’s quarterback and he even had the looks to boot. But he wasn’t just some pretty faced cop. He got the job done.

“You all know what we’re facing here. Forty-eight hours ago, six criminally insane inmates were busted out of Arkham Asylum.” The commissioner began.

_Forty-eight hours ago?!_ Jerome had been on the loose for two days and no one had bothered to tell her of the danger she was in. She was at home eating rice krispies and he could have just strode through the door and killed her. However, it was strange that she was feeling decidedly different about the fact that he hadn’t done that. Not relieved that she had been able to survive for a few extra days, but _forsaken_. Not being his first priority left her feeling _jealous_ if that was even the right word for it. _Jealous of what? The people he had been murdering?_

“Yesterday, four of those inmates broke into Yellen Shipyard, kidnapped seven workers, then dropped them off the roof of the Gotham Gazette.” The room had gone completely silent at the thought of what the commissioner’s words held. “As of now, we still have no leads on the person or persons behind the breakout. Jim Gordon's lead.”

Gordon nodded to the crowd. If anything he looked almost sheepish about speaking to such an audience. Harley pictured him more as a showman, but maybe he had a bad experience in a play as a kid or something. Picturing Gotham’s finest in Peter Pan tights flubbing his lines on a elementary school stage almost had her giggling. She had to hid it under a cough that gained her a new death stare from Dr. Young. _You’re in a meeting about the murder of seven people and you’re laughing about James Gordon in tights._ Harley chided herself.

“These are our targets.” He flipped on the old projector (discretely hitting it a few times to get it to work) and an image of Jerome suddenly flashed before her eyes.

If she had seen this before their many verbal sparring matches she might had been horrified or even managed a gasp at the sight. The spectators around her exchanged muffled musings about the picture of Jerome smiling at the camera for his mugshot. He had murdered his mother nearly days before and that was what he had to show for it. _A big old grin_. If anything the guy knew how to take a picture and make a statement at the same time.

“Jerome Valeska, 18 years old. Matricide.” She wondered what exactly Jerome would think of such a short description. No lists of his deeds in Arkham or the depths of his insanity. She was almost surprised that he didn’t jump from under one of the desks and recite his entire rap sheet.

His picture disappeared replacing it with someone Harley did not recognize. “Arnold Dobkins, schizophrenic. Poisoner, rapist.” He was then flipped over for another mugshot. “Aaron Helzinger. Killed his entire family with his bare hands.”

So far this was an entirely mismatched group of criminals. Harleen pictured Jerome as more of a loner than anything. She didn’t think others would find his style agreeable. The fact that they had all banded together to breakout was _jarring_. There had to be something more to this.

“Robert Greenwood. Killed and then ate a dozen women.” The man who had picked on her during her first day at Arkham was smirking with a bloodied mouth.

_Why would Jerome be working with him?_ Harleen thought. Unless she had forgotten he had stabbed that exact man to get her attention.

Harley noticed the slight tremble of Gordon’s hand as he pressed the button to slide to the next mugshot. The blonde woman she had also encountered on her first day stared blankly ahead. “Barbara Kean,” he took a breath like one would take a drag of a cigarette. “Killed her parents.”

He then shut off the projector and everyone waited in anticipation of his next move. He didn’t know it, but he had the whole city eating from the palm of his hand. It took a special kind of guy not to go mad with power with that thought.

“We're gonna work this in groups of four.” He announced striding to the front with the commissioner. “I'll hand out assignments throughout the day. Alvarez is my coordinating officer. Any questions?”

The G.C.P.D became eerily quiet. Gordon took that as the answer he wanted. “Let's get to work.”

Cops began to disperse in opposite directions towards their assigned tasks. Harleen was about to take her exit before Dr. Young grabbed her arm. “Detective Gordon is going to want to speak with us.” She whispered amongst the shuffling.

Sure enough the man himself was headed their way with the commissioner by his side. “Dr. Young,” the commissioner spoke up. “We’re so glad you could come.”

“It’s the least I can do,” she said. “Things at Arkham have been chaos.”

“I can imagine so.” Gordon commented. “Did you notice anything strange in these individuals before their escape?”

_Please don’t talk about obsessions. Please don’t talk about obsessions._ The last thing Harleen needed was to be a suspect in something she didn’t even do. “No, not that I can recall.” Dr. Young sighed. “They were being more well behaved than usual, I should have seen it as a sign.”

“There’s nothing you could have done,” the commissioner soothed. “What matters now is getting these criminals behind bars again.”

“I brought some files with me. Arkham has some very adpt profiles.” She reached into her seemingly bottomless bag and handed them to Gordon. “That’s what we have of the guys you’re after, but if anyone else is involved I have no doubt we have something on them as well.”

“This is very helpful.” Gordon murmured flipping the manilla folder open to Jerome’s case. The very file Harley had nosed through when she had vowed to be the one to examine him.

“Do you have any idea of what their motivations would be?” Lines of worry were etched into the commissioner’s brow as she spoke. “So far there have been no efforts of any kind of money abduction.”

“If they are being lead by Valeska then I can assure you it is not money they are after.” Dr. Young couldn’t stop her eyes from shifting to Harleen. “They want Gotham to be _afraid_.”

“You think Mr. Valeska was behind the breakout?”

“Without a doubt I am sure of it,” the doctor straightened her posture confidently. “He has been our most unruly inmate sense incarceration. Just recently he gave the woman standing next to my a concussion, killed an orderly, and caused one of our top medical examiners to quit. And that’s just one day’s worth of his work.”

Harley’s eyebrows raised at Dr. Young’s honesty. She expected her to lie about Jerome’s behavior to protect the reputation of Arkham. Maybe the doctor of the past would have done that, but as of the moment Dr. Young was a ball of emotions ready to explode. No one quite pushed her buttons like Jerome. Her anger towards him was more than evident.

“Are you saying he… _Concussed_ you?” Jim Gordon asked Harleen. His expression caused his eyeballs to bulge from his skull. For such a serious man he had a way with making faces.

Harley found herself nodding at his question. “He… Uh... We were negotiating-”

“The life of our medical examiner and he proceeded to attack her viciously.” The older woman interrupted. She felt a flash of irritation at that. Harley _knew_ him better than anyone standing in the room and she was being shot down. If anything _she_ should be leading this discussion. “This isn’t just any run of the mill prisoner. As you know, Detective Gordon, he is a remorseless killer.”

“It is true that his case was one of the more,” his mouth formed into a tight line. “ _Unusual_ ones that I’ve had. But to go from matricide to the stuff you’re talking about seems odd.”

“It was just his opening act.” Harleen breathed causing all eyes to turn on her. “He’s a performer, Mister Gordon. In his own way he’s playing out some kind of show.”

“I don’t think we got your name, ma'am.” Jim Gordon said his gaze filled with scrutiny. She’d be a bit worried as well if some teenager knew things she clearly was not supposed to. Considering the fact that she was said teenager she didn’t feel all that protective of herself.

“Harleen Quinzel,” she adjusted her glasses out of nerves. “I talked to him a few times and he kept making… _Hints_ about the future.”

She remembered his words to her in the medical room very clearly even when she was blacking out. _I promised you fun and don’t worry I keep my prom-ises._

“He’s playing a short game here. All this chaos can’t last forever he knows something has to happen sooner or later. If he was the boss of all of this he would have laid low for awhile. He’s irrational, but not this irrational. Someone’s controlling him.” Harley said unable to stop her thoughts from pouring out.

Harleen recognized now that the sharp pain in her arm was coming from Dr. Young trying to get her away from the two cops. She had been so caught up in Jerome’s antics that it was barely noticed. She never really cared about much else when thinking about him. The agony of her headaches had completely subsided during this entire rendezvous.

“We’ll take note of that.” Gordon interjected after the very awkward pause that was taking place. She saw him grinding his teeth impatiently. He must need to go to the dentist often...

“You must be swamped with work.” Dr. Young was not kidding when she gave Harley’s arm a pull hard enough to dislocate her shoulder. “We won’t bother you any longer.”

She was being dragged in pretty dramatic fashion across the station. It was clear everyone had very little idea of what exactly was going on. If the circumstances were different the police would assume that Dr. Young was her belligerent mother taking her home from the juvenile department.

When reaching the outskirts of the G.C.P.D the doctor finally let go of her. _Why do I keep hanging out with people who want to permanently injure me?_ Harleen thought as she rubbed her throbbing arm. She was going to have a bruise to match the one on her wrist.

“What were you thinking?” The older woman scolded while trying to dig her car keys out of her bag. “You know what… I know exactly what you were you thinking.”

“Enlighten me.” Harley deadpanned. She gritted her teeth giving her arm a shake to get it working right again.

“You think you can see right inside his head. That you have it all _figured out_.” Dr. Young unlocked her car by slamming the button hard enough to break it. “These are cops, this is their job. They do not need to see some teenage girl who shouldn’t be even looking at him knowing all this information. They’ll start to suspect you.”

“Suspect me?!” There it was again. The tide of anger that was rising more often than she’d like to admit. She thought that when the hospital was just a cringeworthy memory that everything would be normal again, but she found herself being a lot more jumpy than before.

“Think about it like anyone else would,” Dr. Young said edging close to her. “You’re a young impressionable girl who jumps in the ring with a guy who loves to manipulate people. He shows some affection, wins you over, and then next thing you know you’re breaking him and his gaggle of friends out of Arkham.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Harleen squared her shoulders stubbornly.

“I am well aware of that. I know you didn’t do this, but the police could assume you had a hand in it.”

She felt herself relax a little at that. At this point accusations could go anywhere and she didn’t make the greatest case of her own innocence with all her knowledge about Jerome. As well as the fact that she had a track record of breaking out of hospitals and could have easily paid a visit to Arkham if she wanted to bust him out. The idea of her and Jerome running around as some criminal duo seemed a little far fetched. However, Mr. Cicero’s warnings still rang in her mind as potent as her headaches.

“Why do I keep getting sucked into this?” She wondered out loud. “I just want everything to be back to the way it was.”

Dr. Young sighed while tapping her foot on the ground. “I highly doubt you desire that. I remember you saying there was, ‘an element of glamour to these super criminals.’ You’re drawn to this type of activity, just like me.”

“Being hunted day in and day out didn’t come with the job description is all.” Harley sauntered over to the doctor’s car. The longer they stayed out in the open the more uneasy she became.

“You think all those wavers you signed were just for slips and bumps?” Dr. Young quipped as she climbed into the car. “I didn’t force you to investigate Valeska or to go into that room.”

“That was before I got concussed.” Harleen murmured sarcastically. Dr. Young revving up her engine must have drowned out the sound of her voice.

“I would expect to get a call from Jim Gordon soon about police protection. It won’t be long before he figures out what’s going on between you and Jerome. I added it to his file for a reason.” The older woman pulled the car into the direction of Harley’s house. “I suggest you get out of Gotham or lock yourself inside. Even if you try to avoid him within this city he’s going to find you.”

“Sounds like fate,” Harley deadpanned. “What are we in a movie?”

“You’re not going to leave are you?” The doctor asked ignoring her jest.

“I have a cheer tournament soon. I promised the team I’d be there and promises are important.”

“You are going to risk your life and the lives of everyone around you… For a cheer tournament?” Dr. Young almost lost control of her own car from the gaping stare she was giving the teen.

_It’s almost like fate…._ Harley thought as she gave a slight smile to the windshield.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know this is filler and I apologize for that, but after this the sh*t hits the fan big time! Think... School buses + Gasoline = ??? (also Jerome/Harley interaction is gonna be big time from this point out and we're gonna get to some scenes I've envisioned since coming up with this whole thing)
> 
> I just have to say that I am Jim Gordons #1 fan for real he is just the most precious thing and I couldn't resist adding him in this bc come on it's Jim freaking Gordon! (Can we just talk about the fact that Jim Gordon probably had some bad school play experience bc I can totally see Leslie finding a picture of him in damn Peter Pan tights in a photo album.) 
> 
> Also Harley, Harley, ohhhh Harley... Bad decision after bad decision going on here... She's just being plain reckless at this point
> 
> Also to clarify right here (sorry these notes r getting long and annoying ugh but i have so much to say) Jerome is pretty into Harley right now even though the Joker is often apathetic about her or just plain horrible. I blame it on boredom and youth. Being locked up doesn't give you a lot of things to think about and at this point Jerome's pretty young and hasn't fully grown into his Joker persona yet so there are some things that haven't evolved to their full potential. (Don't worry this fic is not gonna get lovey dovey or anything like that... that would just be out of character) Also if he thoughts seem disjointed and just plain odd that was intentional... Prison time kind of messes with the old noggin 
> 
> (LAST ONE I SWEAR) I'd love to hear your guys's thoughts on this bc ur reviews make my day truly (I may or may not be constantly checking my email and squeeing a lot) I'd be overjoyed to talk to you about this story!


	9. tag, you're it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So guys.. I apologize for not getting this out sooner. This chapter was a huge struggle for me in every way as it was incredibly hard to write (i'm still not a 100% satisfied, but I knew if I didn't post it now I'd never post it) and I got hit with food poisoning that's rendered me immobile for days on end. That being said I'm finally going to make an update schedule I'd say expect a new chapter at the end of every week so around Friday, Saturday, or Sunday. But don't hold me to that bc I something could always come up that prevents me to write.

_Running through the parking lot_   
_He chased me and he wouldn't stop_   
_Tag, you're it, tag, tag, you're it_   
_Grabbed my hair and pushed me down_   
_Took the words right out my mouth_

_**\- Melanie Martinez, **Tag, You're It**** _

Harley was lacing up her sneakers when the rest of the team joined her in the locker room. She had been successful in getting there early in order to prepare for the tournament. Her parents had been blissfully oblivious to the true amount of danger she was in at the moment. In neglecting their jobs in order to stay with her at the hospital they were truly on the line. Overtime and other measures had to be taken in order to keep income steady. Thus, she took a backseat in their priorities.

Usually, the distance from her parents would have upsetted her, but on the contrary it was exactly what she needed. Their constant fretting and worrying would have driven her insane. It meant well, but what she wanted was to just live her life with some sense of normality.

She knew colleges were going to be scouting at this event and her A game was required. There had been a constant slacking off since her position at Arkham had started, but that was over now and a gymnastics scholarship was the only thing in her future. Harleen knew it was high time to let go of what she had hoped for in the past.

“Quinzel,” her coach regarded her. She looked up from her shoe to face the woman. “I’m surprised you came today.”

Harley beamed. “Teamwork is very important to me, Miss. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

The coach raised an eyebrow at her strangely sunny attitude and walked to the other side of the locker room. Harley felt a flare of anger at that. She was sick of being treated like some broken doll. She got hurt. _**Big deal**!_ _People get hurt all the time no need to handle with such care._ Why couldn’t people just regard her with something other than skepticism?

“We’ll be boarding the bus in five minutes, so get ready! You all should have had the same idea as Miss. Quinzel and showed up early to take your precious time.” The coach roared to her cohorts.

The other cheerleaders frowned as Harleen cracked a small smirk. The others were scrambling to get their uniforms on and she found it a good opportunity to load up her duffle bag with anything she may need.

Dr. Young had made no effort to contact her since their last trip to the police department. She had dropped her off at her house without so much as a goodbye before driving off to parts unknown. It was highly possible that she had been completely crushed by work. There was no call from James Gordon on protection either. The most probable conclusion was that he hadn’t gotten around to reading the files as his every waking minute was dedicated to figuring out the next move of the… _Maniax._

It was a rather silly title. It hit the papers not long after the press conference. (Artfully printed on the dead bodies of the shipyard workers.) She found herself not so much as wrinkling her nose at the loss of life, but more or less the name of Jerome’s whole escapade. _He really couldn’t have come up with something a little bit better?_ There was no way he had been the one to decide it on his own. This was team effort and if she knew anything about the red headed boy he hated cooperating. The whole thing was so off.

Being the first person on the bus was a blessing as she got to comfortably choose a seat in the back. Before everything at Arkham she would have situated herself in the middle amongst all the conversation and impromptu cheers, but her mind was more occupied. Her friends saw it as the _emotional toll_ of being at the asylum taking the energy out of her. Harley herself wasn’t quite so sure if it was temporary. Things had changed and she doubted if there was any going back.

The bus began to move on its slow course towards their destination. Harleen found herself leaning her head against the window as the rest of her team stood up to practice their cheer. The feelings of strong anger and irritation since she had been in the hospital had faded away. The replacement was more of a desolate emotion. She was resigning herself to a fate without excitement. Dr. Young had been correct in assuming she was drawn to the criminal element, but was that truly worth a possible death at a young age? It wasn’t just psychology she wanted. There was something more.

She recalled the day in the medical room where she had relived Jerome’s feelings when murdering his mother. There was no other word to describe it other than a _rush_. Her blood was practically humming in her veins as she got closer to him. Either physically or mentally she couldn’t tell. Everything was a giant blurred line when it came to what was it about Jerome that made her want to see him again. She had to quit while she was still safe. A boring life without him was probably better than a life of excitement with him. _Probably…._

Something in the window proceeded to catch her eye. The others were too busy cheering to notice the red sheen of the truck coming towards them. Traffic in Gotham was a normal thing, but the roads were strangely abandoned. The fact that it was the only vehicle looking to interact with them made Harley uneasy.

Looking over the shoulders of her friends she noticed that it was an oil truck. Mostly oil trucks stayed near the shipyards and didn’t come into the city for fear of damage.

It suddenly dawned on Harleen that the Maniaxs last target had been a shipyard. At this point the bus was stopping and she was already running towards the driver. Her teammates shot her looks at her distress and there was no point in hiding it anymore. If she was wrong the least that could happen was she would be pegged as having a mental break. If she was right they would have a fighting chance of escape.

“The Maniaxs are in that truck!” She shouted throughout the entire bus. “We have to get out of here! You have to keep driving!” Her manic way of speaking was most likely not helping in matters of anyone believing her. She tried to calm herself down, but the worried mumblings of everyone around her wasn’t helping.

“If you don’t drive right now!” Harley yelled frantically. _He said he was going to come for her when he got out… He said he was…._ “I will throw you to them and get out of here myself!”

“Miss, I need you to breathe.” The bus driver shifted a little in his seat. Harleen supposed that having a teenager on the verge of psychopathy demanding things from you made anyone uncomfortable. “Those are not the criminals you’ve been reading about in the papers. I think you should sit do-”

The rain of blood that splattered on Harley’s face gave her all the indication she needed that the driver had been shot. Her teammates began to scream in panic and try to scramble out of the bus. It was no use, they were all surrounded.

She heard the sound of the bus doors creaking open and a rough hand descended on her shoulder. _Is it him?_ Harleen thought. No, the hand was too big and the grip wasn’t tight enough.

“I think you should sit down,” the voice of Greenwood mocked into her ear. Of all the people she wanted to have been there he was the last on her list. She could take some solace that Jerome wouldn’t _kill_ her, but this man made no such promises.

Then again she wasn’t facing him and there was a good chance she wouldn’t be recognized. As he pushed her towards the back of the bus again she tried to keep her face as hidden as possible. The fear of the whole situation caused tears to run down her cheeks. Strategically, the runny makeup that came with that would make her even harder to remember. She had been nearly immaculate at Arkham right down to her perfect fingernails. This was not the same Harleen Quinzel.

She didn’t realize she was being handcuffed to her seat before she tried to wipe away the pathetic tears from her face. This effort only left a sharp cutting pain in her wrist. She recalled when she had first met Jerome he was being handcuffed and her urge to ask the guards to loosen them.

“I want you all to know this was a very difficult decision for us.” His mere presence caused Harley to look up. He was there standing before her at the very front of the bus. Where she had been only moments ago.

A twinge inside her nearly **_sang_** at seeing him again after all this time. He had picked up weight since she had last encountered him. His appearance was much more imposing, almost matching his mental intimidation. The hair had remained untouched. It baffled her that he was so styled even after spending near to a year in prison and then organizing an entire criminal operation. His outfit was something she couldn’t even comprehend. Her words to James Gordon repeated in her mind. The opening act was over and it was time for the true performance. Murdering an entire group of young school girls just to make Gotham tremble at the sight of him. _Now that was show business._

“It was between you and a senior citizen bingo party.” Harleen pressed against her cuffs to get a better view of him. She’d have scars on her wrists to match the bruise he had given her. _It was almost like Christmas…_ “In the end, we decided to skew a little younger. Youth won the day. Sorry.”

He was coming dangerously close to her. She sucked in a breath. There were no more boundaries between them. No more prison regulations or orderlies to turn to. It was a free game now and she was without any advantages. The bubbling in her chest made her want to curse Dr. Young for all of eternity for being so damn _**right**_ about her. She did almost get off on this. The cheer tournament was nothing in her mind anymore compared to Jerome stalking towards her. _Come closer,_ she thought straightening up. _I want you to do it. I want you to do it, I want you to do it._

Then he was gone. Going up the aisle again to the slumped over form of the dead bus driver. Harley did not have any relief in this. Vitriol was a better word for whatever she was experiencing. The urge to cry out to him and bring him to her again made her feel as if she should be waving goodbye to her sanity.

“Give me an ‘O’!” Jerome projected enthusiastically. The only thing he was met with was cries and whimpers from the cheerleaders. He frowned a little and that was never a good sign. While everyone else jumped when he fired a shot into the ceiling of the bus Harleen expected it from him. “I said give me a ‘O’.”

“Please just do what he says,” she more or less whispered to herself. The others around her must had heard because the next thing that came out of their mouths was Jerome’s precious order.

“O.”

“Give me an ‘N’.”

“N.” Harley recited with the other cheerleaders. Her hands were shaking violently and she tried to quell her nerves. Freaking out was not going to get everyone out of the situation. However, it was hard to do anything but that when a bunch of convicted murderers were holding you hostage.

“Give me another ‘O’!”

“O.”

Jerome took a long hose into his hands and grinned. “What does that spell? Oh, no!”

Harley had never been too close to gasoline. Gotham had very strict policies against it due to explosion hazards. For starters, she never knew how terrible it smelled until it was being sprayed on her by Jerome. It had slipped into her mouth in part of the screaming and she began to cough as a result. She thrashed against her seat to free her hands. There was no time left for rational thinking. She was going to die right there if something didn’t happen.

“Oh man, get a load of this!” Harleen blinked a few times to see Greenwood standing over her. “It’s the girlie from nuthouse!”

The sound of the hose dropping to the floor signaled Jerome’s descent for her. She continued to try and break free of her handcuffs, but Greenwood placed a barbaric hand on her to stop her.

“Don’t touch me!” Harley shrieked putting as much venom in her voice as possible. If she was to die here then she wouldn’t die submitting.

“You should listen to the lady. It is rude to touch things that aren’t even yours.” Harleen looked up just in time to see Jerome deliver a punishing punch to Greenwood’s gut. The man clutched his stomach and leaned forward in agony. “I think you got about… Ten seconds to get off this bus before I burn you alive.”

That was all Greenwood needed to hear before he hightailed out of the bus towards his comrades on the street. Jerome threw his head back and roared with delighted laughter.

“Did anyone ever tell you blood was a good look on you, _Harls-Barls?_ ” He commented. Her face must had been completely _covered_ in the bus driver’s blood. She hadn’t really noticed it in light of the situation.

“Jerome.” She breathed. After everything that had occurred he was so… _Casual._ Speaking to her as if no time had passed at all. His eyes were focused on the other side of bus. He wasn’t even looking at her.

He hummed as if considering something. The barrel of his gun just barely brushed the side of her face. It almost felt like a caress. “You really gotta say my name more often, sounds nice.” He giggled pushing her with more force with the barrel. Her head squished against the window. “Just don’t wear it out.”

“How did you know?” Her throat burned from the gasoline and every word caused a new constriction that lead closer to tears.

“ _Awwww_ , Harley.” He mocked leaning over to uncuff her. “Look at you all confused, cute as a button!”

This was her chance if she was going to have any at all. With the cuffs off she reached out to have some kind of traction against Jerome. One swipe was all she could get before he caught her wrist in a dangerously punishing grasp. “We gotta stop meeting like this.” He muttered before pulling her to her feet.

Harley was being guided outside the bus by Jerome. The panicked screams of her fellow cheerleaders rang in her own ears and she tried to look back at them. Jerome frowned at her efforts and pulled her tight enough so her back was against his chest as they exited the bus.

“Am I not special enough, Harley?” He chortled against her neck. His obvious sarcasm made her feel less like he was going to put a bullet her in head. They were outside now and the rest of his group had little care for her sudden appearance.

He let go of her only to shove her violently against the bus. Other than the sound of her own body meeting the metal she heard the Maniax chuckle at her expense.

She tried to get control of her breathing as the wind had been knocked out of her. Her head was starting to get dizzy again and she did not need a repeat of last time. Unclenching and then clenching her fists gave her a focus on something other than the urge to black out. The pain of her nails digging into her own skin kept her aware of what was going on.

“You got a light by chance?” Jerome’s voice broke through her haze. She blinked a few times to see him looking at her expectantly. The bus wasn’t up in flames at this point, which was a miracle.

“Go to hell,” Harley hissed trying to quell her shaking legs so she could make a run for it. The idea within itself was idiotic as she wouldn’t make it more than a few steps before being killed.

“You don’t really mean that, do ya?” He poked out his lip in feigned disappointment. He had abandoned his current task to come to her. “Hurts a guy’s feelings after he goes to all this… _Trouble._ ”

“You were going to burn me alive!”

He was in front of her now. His scent purely gasoline just like hers. She had never been so close to him in their entire time together. The feeling was like a strange hum of electricity in the small space between them. It was… _Weird._ For lack of a better word.

Suddenly, his hands were on her shoulders so tight that she knew she’d bruise easily. She could feel the heat of his palms directly through her thick cheerleading outfit. It sent tingles all throughout her. This was most certainly past the point of anything she could have imagined. He had touched her before, but that was mostly to hurt her or incapacitate her. This on the other hand was strangely tender. Or as tender as a guy like Jerome could get because he was still giving her shoulders terrible treatment.

“Details, details, details… What you gotta focus on here, _Harl…_ Is that we have unfinished business.” Jerome waved a finger around her face. Harleen didn’t have an idea of where he was going with his movements until he grasped one of her pigtails in his hand and _pulled._

_There it was…_ The pain again. What else could she expect from him? That brief moment of whatever that was now was gone. “I’m blow to this itty bitty bus up,” his voice dropped to that oh so familiar low octave. He leaned his face so close to her that she was pretty sure no one else could hear what he was saying. “You have a choice, doll.” Jerome moved again to press his lips to where her ear was angled down by the increasingly painful pull on her pigtail. “You can go along with your little friends.”

“Or what?” She tried to keep the tremble out of her voice to no avail. His breath against her was making everything else highly unimportant. _Shouldn’t she be disgusted?_

“Or… You don’t do that.” The hard barrel of his gun came under her chin. That was it. He was going to kill her before she could even blink against it.

“Why me?” Harleen questioned. Retched tears were threatening to come out of her eyes. Her friends were going to die and it was all her fault. “Why are you doing this to me?”

Jerome hummed with delight. She knew better than to move at the moment. Anything could trigger a bullet into her skull. “Let me tell you something. I wasn’t the one locked up that whole time, you were.”

This was officially in the realm of _crazy._ She had always taken great care to never refer to any of the residents at Arkham with these terms, but with a gun under her chin and all this nonsensical babble it was hard not to.

“You’re a prisoner, Harley.” He laughed right into her ear. “And you don’t even know it! But don’t worry, I’m gonna set you free. You’ll see… Just you wait!”

The tip of his nose almost rubbed affectionately against her cheek. She felt no urge to pull back or push at him. Fighting was going to get her nowhere as Jerome’s secret strength must had doubled since his weight gain. The lack of disgusting food that was served at Arkham had given his body vigor it did not have before. Besides that, the strange lull of comfort in the fact that she wasn’t dead must had sent her body into some kind of slumped state. She was relaxed against him.

“Just let them go.” Harleen was really crying now. Everything was hitting her at the exact time when she needed to be calm. _Figures…_

Jerome’s knee collided with her stomach. Harley doubled over with a rather embarrassing shout of both surprise and pain. She made quite the spectacle with her gasoline, teary eyed, gut punched self. There needed to be some reminder in her extensive planner back at home to never ever try to save anyone ever again.

“Don’t bore me, gorgeous.” Jerome promptly helped her back to her feet. _What a gentleman._ “You’re so... Close. Just baby steps away from your potential. I can make you _see_ like I _see_. I think… We got a long future together, Harl.”

This time Harley tried to push. Being pissed off gave people a lot more agility even when injuries and severe emotional trauma came into play. She got something when he stumbled back a few inches. He must had not have betted on being bested by her in even a little shove. The darkened expression on his face wasn’t going to help her much.

“There is no future!” She shrieked. Anyone else who had heard her voice might had loaded her onto the next car headed for a mental hospital. Her hands flew to her eyes to cover up the world around her. _This isn’t real, this isn’t real, this isn’t real, real, this is real, this is all too real, real!_ “I’m not a prisoner! I’m not like you! Stop doing this! Just stop it! _Stop it, stop it, stop, stop it, stopstopstop, stopitstopitstopit, STOP IT!_ ”

The shaking in her form subsided only slightly when she had stopped yelling. Her throat burned from the effort it took to scream so loud and from the looks of the henchmen standing around it had made an effect. The cannibal who had been threatening her like she was nothing mere minutes ago was now looking to run as far as possible. The skinnier one was even backing away slightly. It was then she realized that her rant was not the generic cries of some school girl.

It was the sound of someone who was clearly unhinged.

She didn’t know what could have driven the outburst. Possibly, the amount of stress of being as vulnerable as she had been in the past few weeks. However, she had survived and lived in the Narrows for even longer. There had never been much emotion from Harleen beyond the calm and collected person everyone admired. If there was any problem to be solved or someone to be helped she was the one to do it completely rationally.

_Was there ever any more to her than that?_

Her hands were being pulled away from her eyes. She allowed Jerome’s face to come into view through her blurred vision. His grip was loose on her, which was even more surprising considering he had kneed her in the gut earlier.

“There she is,” he cooed. One of his hands came up to stroke her hair that he had also inflicted injury upon. Everything was on an entire knife’s edge with him. One minute he was beating her up and the next he was touching her like some china doll. His let out a feral growl. “That’s what I’ve been waiting for.”

The sound of sirens must had interrupted his train of thought. He sighed dramatically throwing his head backward. “They always know how to kill the mood, don’t they?” Jerome didn’t wait for an answer before taking Harley’s limp form and pulling her in front of his chest.

It only occurred to her that she was being used as a literal human shield before James Gordon himself was out of his car and pulling out a gun. “Stand your ground, boys. They can't shoot at a bus.” Harley almost turned around to remind him that they couldn’t shoot at her either, but with the city’s hatred of Jerome reaching a fever pitch one dead teenager wouldn’t matter.

He was using her and he knew there was a large possibility that she could die right here. After everything he had put her through he was willing to turn her in. He was going to _let her_ get shot.

Harley began to thrash against him. Making some rather ugly noises as a result. She could practically see the spit flying from her mouth due to the absolutely brutal way she was fighting. Jerome didn’t even budge at these antics. He simply hummed in what seemed to be… _Contentment?_

“Hold your fire! Hold your fire!” Jim Gordon shouted as Jerome let a shot fly from his gun. The sound rang in her ears louder than her own panic.

Then suddenly without warning she was without him. He had unceremoniously tossed her from his hold onto the pavement. “Aaron, Greenwood, get the truck started.” Harleen could see Jerome not even steal a glance at her while pointing out directions to his crew. “We're gonna blow this barbecue.”

The blood coming from her hands as a result of the fall began to pool around her. Harleen was sure there were other injuries on her, but at the moment everything was fixated on him. She was no move to get up and try to save the bus. That would mean being away from what was happening. Her body was unwilling to part from the sheer _madness_ of the situation.

Gordon tried to gain some traction on Jerome by moving up a few cars. He had nearly gotten his head blown off when Jerome made a flurry of shots against him. _He isn’t gonna make it,_ Harley thought grimly. If that were to happen it was unclear what exactly Jerome would do. Would he burn her with everyone else like he had said? Or would something else transpire?

A hard metal object proceeded to bump into her leg. She realized that it was the very gun Jerome had been using on the G.C.P.D., most likely out of bullets. Harley looked up from the gun to meet his gaze for only a mere second. She would have gasped if her throat wasn’t so raw. His smile was stretched in complete satisfaction and his eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas. He always had a way of rendering her completely useless with one look.

“Light 'em up!”

By _‘em_ Harleen could only assume that she was still in the equation of burning alive. _You liar!_ She cursed him in her mind. _You said I had potential! You said you were going to save me! Liar liar pants on fire! Or… Well Harley on fire…_

She almost laughed at the absurdity of her own thoughts. Using childish school rhymes to insult Jerome was not in line with her personality. Then again, she was doing a lot of things that didn’t seem like herself.

She rose to her shaky legs. It was as if when he left she was in control of her thoughts and body again. One of his henchmen had been left behind to perform the task of burning the bus. A faulty lighter was making it difficult for that to be fulfilled. If he even got a single lucky stroke then it would be over for everyone. The entire police force, the cheerleaders, and herself would be dead. _No…_ Harley wasn’t going to give Jerome that satisfaction. Time to put the work in their arrangement.

The skinny one had no idea what hit him when Harley knocked his entire body off course with a single charge. Gymnastics did have many benefits, including the art of silent surprise. Once she had gotten him away from the bus it was now down the actual fight. He had the advantage of being on top of the little pile up they created. For such a small guy he sure packed some vicious punch, using his unusually long nails to get at her face.

Harley got her legs around his middle to successfully cut off some of his breathing. This gave her the opportunity to sink her own nails into his cheek. The war cry she let out as he yelped in pain gave her body an almost inhuman like strength. Adrenaline was rushing through her brain and fast because suddenly she was on top. That was when she used the gun that had previously been tossed her way. There were no bullets, but that didn’t render it completely useless as it was still a good blunt weapon. The loud crack as the butt slammed across the man’s face gave her satisfaction that nothing else ever could. _This was **power** …_ Not some internship or a cheerleading tournament… This was what her entire life had been deprived of.

It felt like she was finally free.

The struggle must had caused the lighter to fall out of his hands because the hot licking flames of fire were starting to edge closer to her. _Oh…_ She forgot about all of that.

“Are you all right?!” Detective Gordon’s voice came over the pounding in her own ears. The guy beneath her was currently knocked out cold. They were far away enough from the fire to not be caught in the explosion that was going to come if Gordon didn’t haul ass.

“The bus!” Harleen yelled. “It’s gonna blow! Save the bus!”

Gordon seemed to get the message because all she got was a nod before he got on the bus. _They were all going to be okay. Everything was going to be okay…_ She saw the vehicle move safely away from the destruction. After everything that had occurred she was fine. Jerome had lost.

He was wrong about her… He had to be. There was no sense to what he was talking about. She wasn’t like him at all. The way he saw the world was just one big practical joke. Harley would never be able to understand that. If anything she was miles away from where he was.

Why did she feel the need to close that distance?

It was past understanding. Dr. Young was correct in her assessment that Harleen could never understand him. Every painstaking detail she had put into her conversations with him lead to him having even more power over her.

He made her feel a way that she doubted any other person could feel. The rush of blood in her veins, the electricity when they were together, even when he was hurting her she couldn't deny it. It was some kind of vicious chemistry that kept bringing him straight into her path. There was no way to lie to herself about how she felt. Even when he had speed off in his truck she wanted him back. It made her feel more alive than anything else in her life ever had.

Harley proceeded to crawl off the man she had given a good beating. He gurgled on what seemed to be his own blood. _I did this,_ she thought staring at the mess she had created of his face. _I could have killed him. His life was entirely in my hands. No one would blame the pretty blonde cheerleader for killing a **freak** in self defense._

This was what Jerome had been talking about. About seeing the world. The lives of every single person on that bus had been with him entirely. Gotham was _eating_ from the palm of his hand. He had everything he could ever want. He was **_happy_**. That was more Harleen could say for herself or anyone else she knew. He had a calling and he fulfilled it. If being the bringer of complete chaos made him free then why not do what you love?

It was like she had been asleep for the past seventeen years of her life and she had finally…

_Woken Up._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that wasn't too terrible (ugh I can't stop criticizing this chapter for some reason I just wish it was better). But anyway! We are finally getting the birth of our favorite super villainess, which is incredibly exciting to see rational doctor Harleen turn into Harley! 
> 
> Oh man is Jerome getting into her head! One minute she's saying he's wrong and the next she's agreeing with everything he says!
> 
> As for the bus thing I didn't make it entirely intentional for Jerome to find her on the bus, I see as more of a good guess. Jerome knew she was a cheerleader, but wasn't super intent on finding her (he had better things to do tbh) just invading the first bus he could find made him just a lucky guy.


	10. and on my deathbed, all I'll see is you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *old rose voice* it's been 84 years...
> 
> Yeah sorry about the wait omg I didn't even realize so much time passed until I started writing again bc oh m y god has life been stressful between tests, holidays, personal crises, work out routines I didn't even have time to breathe let alone write. Plus blame Fallout 4 and Hamilton (LAFAYETTE) for taking up my 3 hours of spare time a week, but DO NOT FEAR! This project is not abandoned even if the Gotham fall finale disappointed me by not bringing the bae back I'm pretty sure he's gonna be there soon. So in that case let me just announce that it's all AU from here. And when Gotham finally does the right thing and brings Jerome and Harley together I'll write fics in that universe's context, but yeah consider this another universe as of the moment.

_**Eyes like a car crash** _   
_**I know I shouldn't look but I can't turn away.** _   
_**Body like a whiplash,** _   
_**Salt my wounds but I can't heal the way** _   
_**I feel about you.** _

_**\- Bring Me The Horizon, Deathbeds** _

A hand on her shoulder caused Harley to jump nearly a mile. It was only then that she realized James Gordon was standing over her with a look of utter concern on his face. Seeing the innocent teenager from only a few days ago straddling a man beaten to a pulp was an odd equation. Her lack of movement from the position in the time he had managed to save the bus must had also been jarring.

“Miss. Quinzel?” Gordon was pulling her gently to her feet. Her legs wobbled slightly due to the adrenaline finally leaving her body.

“The one and only.” She jested, offering up a sad smile. Gordon was not the slightest bit amused.

“Your… Uh, your face.” He noted pointing to her bloodstained self.

_Right._ She wasn’t doing a good job of selling herself as a traumatized victim. Acting classes in the future were noted. Harleen made an effort of making her jaw slacken in surprise as if all the events had suddenly hit her. Better to sell shock to Gordon than to seem all too **_fine_** with everything that had just occurred.

“Let’s get you over to Dr. Tompkins.” Gordon muttered awkwardly. He took an effort of escorting her to a woman in a lab coat that could only be the famous doctor. She was equally responsible for putting criminals behind bars as the detective was. The papers always had a field day with the sweeping romance between the two. It seemed everyone in Gotham knew what was going on with them.

Before she could even blink Harleen was perched atop a gurney with Dr. Tompkins shining a rather annoying light in her eyes and asking a series of trauma related questions. She answered them to fit the profile of shocked but grateful victim. A little tremble in her voice and some doe eyes could get anyone out of anything.

“You want to tell me what happened to Mr. Dobkins over there?” The doctor had become rather frank. Turns out she wasn’t a fan of robotic responses to serious inquiries.

“I had no choice,” Harley’s tone _screamed_ defensive. “He was gonna blow up the bus.”

“You beat him up pretty bad.” The older woman raised a curious eyebrow to indicate Dobkins —who could barely even stand—being directed by a forceful Jim Gordon. His nose was obviously broken and he looked to be missing some teeth. She didn’t remember hitting him _that_ hard.

Harley let her lower lip quake slightly. She was finding it easier to get a hold on her emotions the farther the event was from her. These new feelings were terrifying to say the least. Maybe, talking about them could help in leaving them behind. It was clear Jerome was done with her when he carelessly threw her onto the pavement. Burying the hatchet of the new found crazy before it could manifest into something more might be what she needed. “I don’t know I was just… So—”

Her sentence was interrupted by the sound of a gunshot ringing through the air. The screams around her was all the indication she needed to know that Dobkins had been shot. Gordon was ordering everyone to stand back and take cover, but the shooter didn’t seem to make any second move against the crowd. They were there for Dobkins. To erase his failure.

The rest of her teammates were quickly loaded onto a emergency vehicle. Considering Dr. Tompkins’s gaze was pinning Harleen to her seat it was clear she wasn’t invited along with the other cheerleaders. Dr. Young’s words about being a suspect ran loudly in her head. _Why else would he attack the bus?_ Her train of thought sang. _They won’t believe it was just some random coincidence._ The police were keeping her in her spot for questioning. They must had fears that she would run off with the rest of the Maniax if they let her go for even a second. _What a thought that was…_

“Lee,” Gordon had moved from his cover to approach the doctor. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Jim.” She responded. Her hand briefly squeezed his own as if to remind him she was still there.

Harleen felt she should at least avert her eyes from their intimate moment. There was no chance she could get up and walk away from it. She wasn’t used to such affection being displayed in front of her. Her parents were coldly removed as most long term married couples were. She had always assumed that was just how it worked. After the honeymoon phase passed relationships turned more platonic by the day until they were glorified roommates. However, the way the detective was looking at the woman made Harleen doubt it.

“Miss. Quinzel,” Gordon regarded her. Dr. Tompkins cleared her throat at the realization that Harley had been watching this whole time.

“Just call me Harleen.” She normally would have suggested Harley, but it felt strangely inappropriate considering the way Jerome had used it earlier. Having anyone else claim it felt like an invasion of privacy. “We’re pretty much acquainted at this point.”

The grim detective's features lightened slightly at this breaking down of barriers. The more she could show them she wasn’t affected the better chance she had of going home unscathed. She didn’t really want the next week of her life being spent in another hospital or worse the G.C.P.D. headquarters.

“I understand that you knew Jerome Valeska when he was at Arkham?” Gordon dropped all the levity from his face when the questioning started. Good cops didn’t form attachments to anyone within their field… _unless they were certain medical examiners._

“So you read the file?” Harleen countered. “He was interested in me and I guess I… fed that interest.”

“Dr. Young described him as obsessed.”

“That’s another word for it.”

“Do you think he attacked the bus because you were on it?”

Harley shrugged. The stiffness in her shoulders cried out after being held by Jerome’s punishing grasp. However, the burn wasn’t exactly unpleasant. It reminded her that everything that took place was real. “I don’t know what to think.”

Dr. Thompkins leaned over to whisper something in the detective's ear. With a stiff nod he stepped away from the gurney. “I can’t imagine the type of day you're having right now.” He murmured.

_Oh god… not the sympathy. Anything but that._ The good doctor must had thought the strategy of getting under Harley’s barriers included Gordon’s sad attempt at compassion. At least she could relate to him in the fact that he looked just as uncomfortable as she felt.

“It’s been a bad day, but nothing life ruining.” She attempted to keep her tone level and **_not_** pissed off. “I think I’d be much better if I was allowed to go home.”

“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.” Gordon squared his shoulders defensively. _Ok… the guy could look scary if he wanted to._ “We have no idea if Jerome will target you again. It would be best if we stationed you and your family in an undisclosed location with police protection.”

“Do I have a choice in the matter?” Harleen almost groaned. Packing ship and moving on did not sound all that appealing to her. Then again, getting murdered wasn't on the top of her list either.

“No,” Gordon answered bluntly turning away from her to attend to the dead body of Dobkins. “We’ll call your family and pick them up. It’s best you don’t go back home until the Maniax have been stopped.”

“With all due respect, I’m the only one who's had a full conversation with him and _lived_.” She called out after him. “I should be helping.”

The detective stopped in his tracks at her remark. Harleen assumed he’d throw some warning comment over his shoulder, but he was heading towards her with a fire in his eyes that rivaled an Arkham inmate. That was most definitely not good.

“Do you know how many people have died in the last two days?” He was truly toe to toe with her now. A week ago, if anyone told that she would anger Gotham’s most respected policeman she would have laughed in their face.

“No,” she murmured pathetically. Usually, she would have just kept her damn mouth shut the second Gordon told her to relocate. The normal Harleen would have covered up the annoyance and thanked him for saving her. _Except he didn’t save you._ A recess of her mind that frankly sounded too much like Jerome chortled. _He didn’t have the guts to do what you did. Jim Gordon isn’t a man who’s willing to make those choices._ However, she’d probably want to give that little voice in her head a run for it’s money if the murderous look in Gordon’s eye was any indication.

“More than enough and I don’t want you to be one of them.” The fire was fizzled out and only replaced by soft kindness. Harley couldn’t help the little disappointed feeling in her stomach at that. It _had_ the be the adrenaline that made her itch for another fight. _It had to be._

Harleen let out a steady breath. There was no more need to be so on the edge. Jerome and his lackies were gone. She was safe now. “I know, Mister Gordon. I’ll do whatever you think is best.”

He let out a small smile at this. “Go with Officer Lloyd over there by the cars. We’ll contact your family and let them know you're safe.”

“Thank you,” Harleen said getting down from her gurney. Her legs wobbled a little, but her gymnastics training wasn’t for nothing as she kept a steady balance.

She tried not to look back at the bus. To think about how **_his_** voice was still in her ear controlling her emotions or how **_his_** touch burned parts of her body more than fire ever could. She had to get away from these feelings that were just getting worse. The rage she expressed on Dobkins was just scratching the surface of the bubbling violence she felt inside. She wanted Gordon to attack her just as she wanted Jerome to come bursting back onto the scene for round three.

* * *

 

“We had it right in the bag!” Robert’s infernal voice screeched upon entering the luxurious apartment they called home. He was promptly interrupting Jerome’s humming rendition of the _Wheels On The Bus Go Round and Round._ From their rather shabby uniforms Barbara guessed that the job didn’t go according to plan.

She was currently sprawled across Tabitha who was occupying her time by reading some ancient literature. The other woman deemed it as important business and promptly shoved Barbara away when she suggested to make better use of their afternoon. _People just weren’t any fun at this time of day._ She thought dejectedly. There was always Theo, but there was a good chance that he was just off being _boring_ in his office.

“You see what happens when this kid is in charge?!” Robert had broken through her delightful reprieve and she even got a glimpse of Tabby rolling her eyes from above her book. “The bus didn’t blow!”

“I know. I was there.” Tabitha didn’t so much as steal a glance towards the cannibal. The woman’s coldness made Barbara shiver with content.

“If I were you I’d shoot this little brat on sight just like Dobkins.” Robert attempted to hiss. It more or less sounded like a big, ugly, anthropomorphic teddy bear trying to be evil. “We wouldn’t be in this mess if it weren’t for his cheerleader girlfriend!”

Barbara’s eyes flickered to Jerome who had been happily singing to himself while slicing some apples. She never pictured the guy with a girl let alone any interest in someone besides his reflection. He had made no effort to associate with anyone except to establish his dominance over the group. Barbara commended his tenacity as he was the only fellow she didn’t want to stab repeatedly. Besides, they were in separate sectors. Their paths wouldn’t be crossing again anytime soon if Galavan had anything to say about it.  

“ _Girlfriend?_ ” Tabitha lowered her book with interest.

“I’ll tell you she’s just as insane as that one over there.” He jerked his head over to Jerome who was ignoring their entire conversation.

“A crazy cheerleader,” Barbara sighed cuddling into Tabithia. “How delightful.”

“You shoulda heard her screaming some nonsense about not being like us and telling us to stop. It sounded like she was dying or something.” The cannibal took a seat across from the two woman. Barbara sincerely wished he hadn’t as his stench made her relaxation unpleasant. “The girl looks like a friggin’ barbie doll, but I wish you had seen what she did to Dobkins before you got him.”

“I thought that was Gordon’s work.” Tabitha said casually not hearing the hitch in Barbara's breath at the name.

“I’m pretty sure little Mr. Perfect wouldn’t give a guy half his size a broken nose and knock out a few teeth while he was at it. She beat the ever loving crap outta him.”

“Cheerleader’s got a swing then.” A lovely smile quirked at the corners of Tabitha’s mouth that made Barbara want to swallow her whole. “I have to admire that.”

“You remember her from Arkham, don’t ya?” He turned his sickening gaze towards Barbara. She had requested more than enough times to Theo, Tabithia, and even Jerome to end his life but all of them seemed blasé about the matter. Theo and Tabitha urged that he was needed for their efforts. Jerome had merely shushed her multiple times and assured that his end was coming.

Barbara uncurled herself from the other woman and shook out her hair. “Arkham?”

Memories of that place were few and distasteful. That annoying _Dr. Dumb_ (or was it Young?) constantly prodding her for information on her life or reasons for killing her parents. She reminded Barbara of that heathen Thompkins. Taking what wasn’t theirs and draining every last inch of fun from it. While that harpie had taken Jim from her Dr. Dumb tried to take her accomplishments. She was free from her parents and from that horrible normality. They had tried to take everything she had.

“The head doc’s pretty assistant, Quinzel.” His teeth bared at the very thought of her. “Seems like she’s been brought down to our level.”

“You mean?” Barbara connected her index finger to her thumb and pulled it in front of her face to imitate the girl’s pathetic rounded glasses.  

“Exactly.”

She had seen Dr. Dumb’s assistent around. From what Barbara had heard she had been mostly forced to file work. She stood in back of Dr. Dumb like a lost puppy when they had first met. The other times she remembered seeing her was when she skittered past the common hall at the start and end of everyday. There was nothing particularly interesting that sparked Barbara’s fancy except the fact that she needed to stake her territory at the only blonde who mattered in these parts. Or wondering if the kitten was a natural blonde in the first place.

Barbara even recalled the little talk she witnessed between her and Jerome. How the girl practically vibrated the closer he got to her. It made her look back on her early times with Jim… well, if jail cells and threat of murder weren’t involved, but new memories of that were always in their future together. She really had to check to see if they still made that wedding dress in her size. Prison food had dropped her weight significantly and she did want to look good for the main event once Jerome and his little gang were dealt with.

Edging out of her thoughts Barbara cast her gaze towards Jerome again to find him still not giving a care about the conversation going on around him. There was a certain menace to his cheer that was entirely absent at the moment. It made her more uneasy than his normal behavior. She wouldn’t admit to anyone that he scared her, but… he was kind of a freaky guy even for her standards.

“Ooooooo,” Barbara cooed unable to resist the challenge. Although, he did frighten her just a little she wasn’t going to give up the chance of egging him on. Everyone had a button and Jerome had yet to show his at all. Time to play. “Ginger and Quinzel sittin’ in a tree!”

Strangely enough he didn’t respond to it. Just merely popped an apple slice in his mouth and picked up his humming again.

“He actually calls her Harley.” Robert said.

“You gonna rev up your ‘Harley’, Ging?” Barbara laughed out loud at her own joke. She saw Tabithia bury her head in her book to mask her chuckles. However, it wasn’t the other woman’s attention she was seeking. “Or should I?”

The knife just grazed her neck when it came flying at her with superb skill.  Instead of landing in the base of her skull it was lodged into the wall so tight that Barbara doubted it was ever coming out.

“Whoopsie,” Jerome said the grin stretching across his face.

The blood running down her neck wasn’t as bad as she expected it to be. Hell, she probably even deserved it. If Jerome had made similar comments about Jim she would have given him a permanent smile to remember. They were the same in a lot of ways in regarding what was rightfully theirs. This girl **_belonged_** to him no other questions needed.

Tabithia was up and ready with her whip while Barbara stared at the red sticky stuff on her fingers. It was so fascinating that when all was said and done this was what her parents were made of. Same blood as her and yet she wasn’t screaming like they did when the same stuff gushed from their bodies.

She looked up from her hands to find Tabithia pinning Jerome to the kitchen counter by his neck. The kid was laughing so hard that his entire body was shaking. Barbara saw Robert shift uneasily in his chair at the sound. Even the most heartless of  killers had a hard time dealing with his laugh.

“If you ever touch her again…” Tabithia hissed through her teeth.

“That’s enough!” Theo was descending from the tall spiral staircase in all his buttoned up glory. While Barbara did prefer Tabithia there was a certain appeal to watching the man the Gotham public was growing to love be such an animal in the sheets. Especially when he got authoritative. Besides, he was the only person Jerome would semi-listen to.

Tabithia reluctantly released the red headed boy who fell to the floor in glorious cackles. “He hurt her!” She shouted frantically pointing a finger towards Barbara.

“Ah come on it’s just a flesh wound,” Jerome effortlessly got in control of his breathing again and dusted himself off. “No hard feelings right, Babs?”

“None at all,” the wound wouldn’t scar and the bleeding had already taken in short bursts. “Nice throw.”

“Been practicing.” He murmured. Just like that everything was well again with Barbara getting up to find some medical supplies to cover her neck while Jerome took her spot on the couch. She didn’t miss the way Tabitha's eyeballs nearly exploded from her skull at how quickly the situation was resolved. Although, the other woman understood them she never could truly see the inner workings of their minds. She was an assassin not a maniac. You’d send her to Blackgate not Arkham. She had no way of knowing that little group didn’t hold grudges as they all knew they would kill each other in the end anyway.

Jerome took an over exaggerated stretch while getting off his ridiculous jacket. He carelessly threw it in Barbara’s direction and besides the overpowering smell of gasoline she could also detect a more feminine smell akin to peaches. He had certainly got close for comfort to that cheerleader hadn’t he?

“What’s our next move?” Robert questioned to break the uncomfortable silence in the room.

Tabitha turned her murderous gaze from Jerome to focus on her brother who sauntered to the middle of the room. “The G.C.P.D. has become the fixture for light and hope in this city especially that new Commissioner Essen. I hope you will see that the light is extinguished.”

Jerome grinned animatedly. “Now that’s what I’m talking about!” He jumped from his spot with boyish energy. “I’m thinking some undercover work. Get a few police uniforms… An especially snazzy one for myself of course. A video camera… Some rope.”

He was murmuring all these plans to himself as Theo watched with a bemused smile on his face. Out of everyone in the room the man seemed to be the least afraid of Jerome. He saw him as more of a pestering child than anything else. Barbara liked Theo well enough to hope that he stopped staying so blind before Jerome could get the jump on him first.

“Consider all of it done,” Theo beamed. “On one condition.”

Jerome raised his eyebrows.

“James Gordon stays alive.”

Jerome groaned while Barbara’s heart did an excited flutter in her chest. All those promises meant that Theo truly wasn’t deceiving her when he told her her time was coming to ruin Jim once and for all. To break him apart and put him back together again like her little doll.

She snapped out of her daze to find the boy looking at her expectantly. “You happen to own any red gloves, Babs?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Harley babe ur on a emotional rollercoaster right now that's full of ups and downs, apathy and sympathy, and just a ton of thoughts about Jerome... Support group for Harley 2K15
> 
> Also yeah Barbara bc I wanted to have an outside perspective in this chapter plus she and the entire Maniax dynamic is fascinating to explore (RIP wasted opportunities). They are a team yet completely looking out for themselves. Violent towards each other but at the same time trusting enough to stay in the same house. Similar to all the relationships the Joker has it's full of contradictions. Also i love Barbara and Tabitha and that scene where she admits how real her feelings were for her (I WANT THEM TO REUNITE NOW THAT SHE'S FREE FROM THAT ASSHAT THEO). 
> 
> Ok I'm just gonna keep going bc i'm on a roll. I wanted to make it evident how parallel Barbara's view of Jim is to Jerome's view of Harley. Barbara definitely expresses more interest and love in Jim, but both believe that they can break their partner to become everything they want them to be for themselves. I also struggled a lot to when Jerome would react to the other's comments about Harley. I figured the second they threatened her territory over her he'd snap to assert his dominance because remember this isn't the Joker we know and love yet. He's still growing and expressing behaviors that are human.


	11. i've got a lover and i'm unforgiven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley just wants a phone call.

_I found the Devil_   
_I found him in a lover_   
_And his lips like tangerines_   
_And his color coded speak_

_- **Halsey, **Coming Down****_

“You're all prisoners.”

Her hand was wrapped around the remote like a vice. _I should be turning it off._ She thought. _I shouldn’t be watching it._ However, despite these warning cries within her own head she couldn’t move. She wanted to scream out and make someone **_turn it off_** for her, but her throat constricted around the anguished shout.

“What you call sanity, it's just a prison in your minds that stops you from seeing that you're just little tiny cogs in a giant absurd machine.”

She had been painting her toenails when the regular hum drum of the Gotham news had violently switched to live coverage of the G.C.P.D. massacre (the damn thing had only happened hours ago and it already had a sad sounding title.) She immediately **_knew_** it was him. Her heart hammered in her chest. If she hadn’t have been so _weak_ back at Arkham… she could have killed him in the medical room. Dug a knife into his back when he wasn’t looking and no one would have cared. Instead, some _feeling_ had caused her to back down. Before the bus she had attributed it to professional curiosity, but he had made her _see. Hadn’t he?_ Even when she thought their relationship was safeguarded behind the bounds of Arkham she had been wrong. He was in her mind from the start grooming a growing personality inside her that she didn’t recognize at all. He was erasing Harleen Quinzel from existence. She should have just killed him when she had the chance.

“Wake up!”

Oh she had woken up indeed. Besides the the nailpolish currently running down her leg from where she had dropped it the second Jerome came on her television she was fixated on the screen. She could almost imagine she wasn’t in this crappy little hotel room the police had shacked up her family to keep them safe from _him_. If she looked hard enough she could almost dream that he was talking to her.

“Why be a cog? Be free like us.”

The time since the bus attack had been hell for her. After being placed in the hotel the cops had hightailed out to deal with more important matters. In light of this situation her parents made frantic phone calls to everyone they knew and then went to sleep in a fit of exhaustion. The problem was that she couldn’t even shut her eyes without remembering his voice or his hands. No matter how hard she scrubbed in the dingy little shower the gasoline flared in her nostrils. She still felt the wet stickiness of the bus driver’s blood on her face even when it was long gone. There was a sense of comfort in these dark feelings. It tied her to Jerome. It gave her what she had wanted this entire time. To understand was to become afte rall.

The Jerome on the television began to laugh. “Just remember, smile.” He reached his long spindly fingers to quirk the dead cops mouth into a quasi-grin and cackled at the half baked result of it.

“Harleen!” Her mother’s voice rang from the bedroom.

“Oh! Time to go.” Jerome called out. _Come back, come back, come back!_ “But don't worry. We'll be back very soon.”

“Harleen turn that off.” Her mother worried frantically towards her. Harley found herself holding the remote to her chest like a valued treasure. “You shouldn’t be seeing this.”

Her dear mother took hold of the remote and oh… _she shouldn’t had done that._ Her heart began to tighten and the pounding of blood in her ears blocked out everything else around her. Her vision went absolutely _red_.

 _“LET GO OF ME!”_ She shrieked. Harley threw her entire body into tackling her mother to the ground. The loud _thud_ they both made would have woken up all of Gotham if most weren’t already awake in light of the events on the television.

Arms encircled underneath her shoulders and she was pulled away from the limp form of her mother. Her sense of survival immediately went into high gear as she began thrashing against the unknown assailant as they lifted her from the ground.

 _“YOU BITCH!”_ She screamed at the top of her lungs unable to even determine her own voice. Her Narrows accent, which she had spent years covering up when in the finer parts of Gotham came through with full force. She remembered the teasing from fellow students calling her a _mumble mouth_ among more cruel things. In response she had buttoned down and hid until she was accepted. _“YOU’RE MY JAILERS!”_

“Harleen, Harleen, Harleen! Calm down!” It was her father's voice, but it seemed so far away like he was yelling at her from the opposite side of a tunnel. He wanted Harleen back.

Whoever was speaking through her wasn’t Harleen.

She began to scream. The screams she had held back at the bus, when her parents told her to drop out of Arkham, when her classmates asked yet another superficial question about her. They didn’t know anything about her. They only saw Harleen Quinzel, the perfect unemotive child who only opened her mouth when it was lie about the feelings in her own heart. They had always been there. Why else would she intern at the most dangerous place in Gotham? Why else would she actively pursue Jerome? Why else did she not run when everyone told her to? Why else would she want him here right now to hear her screams?

Her mother must had gained enough energy to grab her flailing feet. She was caught between her two parents who frankly packed a lot more strength than she bargained for. Her stamina was running low and her throat scratched with every new scream. It wasn’t until her ears stopped ringing that she realized she was never even screaming in the first place.

She was laughing.

“Harleen, it’s okay we’re here now.” She couldn’t tell which parent had said it, but all she could process was the spinning in her vision. She was going to be sick…

It began to slow down piece by piece. Harley could sense she was on the floor now in the hard grasp of her parents. She was shaking so hard she was sure to be vibrating the floors and her face… _it was wet alright._ The saltiness of her tears mixed with some unsavory snot fell into her gasping mouth. She had to breathe… _breathe… this isn’t real… breathe… this isn’t real…_

“W-what’s happening?” She tried to gasp out. That was a question indeed. _What the hell is happening to me?_ She thought.

“It’s okay… don’t worry, don’t be scared, it’s okay.”

It wasn’t okay. It was the farthest thing from okay. She was turning into him. How long would it be before she killed her parents? Or started up some vigilante group? Or began smiling like him?

Why wasn’t she feeling anything?

Her emotions felt numb to her parents gazes. Her body was responding perfectly with the crying and the shaking but on the inside there was nothing. Except the tiniest feeling of a _thrill_. To show the people who thought they knew everything about her what was really going on inside her mind. It gave her self satisfaction to watch the horror of witnessing something they didn’t understand. She understood. She understood perfectly well.

“I… I think I need to go to bed.” Harley murmured. The news coverage was blaring in the background now that her senses had been restored.

The news woman's voice kept her feet stable as her parents lifted her up gingerly to get her to the shared bedroom they had. “As far as we know three of the Maniax gang have escaped the G.C.P.D. massacre including Jerome Valeska, Barbara Kean, and Robert Greenwood. If you have any information regarding these suspects please report to the Gotham Gazette or Detective James Gordon.”

 _Oh, I have some information that would just give Gordon a real good time._ The thought made her want to giggle, but she remembered her circumstances and stayed quiet.

Their hotel consisted of a small living room, bedroom with a bed plus a couch, and a bathroom smaller than Harleen’s closet. _The big G.C.P.D. bucks paid for this._ She thought sarcastically when her parents laid her out on the couch and put a dusty blanket over her.

“Get some sleep,” her mother planted a kiss on her forehead. Harley could feel the shake in her hands as they touched her. Even her father stood more by the doorway to avoid making contact. It wasn’t so much different from how they normally lived. They covered it up with the excuse that they weren't a touchy feely family or everyone was busy, but it was more than that. They never held much affection in their hearts for each other.

They switched off the small lamp by the couch and took their leave to the living room. It was likely they were going to watch the news some more. Or discuss whatever had happened just minutes ago. Either way Harley felt her eyelids drooping and shuffled around to find a comfortable place on the couch.

The crunching sounds within the normally soft fabric caused her to sit up and inspect the scratchy blanket that covered her. The last thing she needed was an unknown entity with her as she slept and she wouldn’t put it past these hotels to carry cockroach visitors. Rifling through the sheets with her sore arms her hand clutched around a small piece of paper that would have been unoticable if she didn’t feel it.

The room was completely dark which would make it impossible to read whatever was written on the slip. A sliver of light reached from under her door where she guessed her parents were still awake pondering how their lives could become so fraught. That would be perfect to sate her curiosity. For all she knew it could just be some old receipt or blank, but she couldn’t sleep without knowing what it was. Then again she wouldn’t be able to sleep no matter the circumstances.

She slipped from the couch down to the spot next to the door. Unfolding the paper with minimal sound caused for an extended challenge against her parents hawk like ears. Once it was finally done she held it up to view whatever it was in full vision.

_Hotel telephone - Hallway_

_Call number below when convenient_

_Maybe we can have a little chat Harley._

_-J_

He even had the **_gall_** to draw a smiley face at the bottom of the paper. Guessing from the horrific red scrawl he had written it in lipstick. Where he got it she could never guess. The more concerning factor was that he had somehow figured out where the police had put her, found her, and placed a note in a blanket that he was never even fully sure of her discovering. The accumulation of the message had been entirely random. If she had not been placed in this certain hotel room, or had her breakdown, or even took the blanket from the closet she never would have the temptation to run out to the hallway and call him.

The first thoughts that flooded her mind was relief in the fact that he hadn’t forgotten about her. Their last interaction had been when he carelessly threw her to the ground after she wasn’t being a good enough human shield. She assumed that they were done for and he had moved on to better things than psychologically torturing some girl.

There was no more book to write or fame to uncover. She didn’t belong to Arkham and neither did he. All she had to do was not call him and he’d most likely forget. He was giving her one last shot to get that feeling of electricity she so desperately wanted again.

 _This is wrong!_ Her mind scolded. It was hard to identify how the thoughts in her head sounded. Sometimes it took on the voice of Jerome. Sometimes it sounded like herself. Sometimes it even had her Narrows accent that was long since abandoned. _Go back to bed and forget him. Forget this ever happened. This isn’t you. This isn’t you!_

She had been doing a lot of things that didn’t feel like her. Despite that she had never felt more secure with herself than when she was with Jerome. She knew exactly what he meant in his message on the television. Harleen Quinzel had just been another face in the crowd. Trying to make her mark on the world in any way she could. Writing that tell all book would be a temporary solution to a bigger problem. Harleen Quinzel would **_fizzle_** out just as much if she wrote that book than if she took gymnastics. Fame, but not glory. _No…_ Jerome had glory. He was already a legend in Gotham. A nightmare to children and adults alike. No one would ever talk about Harleen Quinzel the way they talked about Jerome Valeksa. She was just a cog. He was the entire machine.

Harleen Quinzel, ever the patient girl waited for her parents to go to sleep so she could creep out and make a phone call.

* * *

 

The phone rang when Jerome was unbuttoning the shirt of the (especially snazzy) police uniform coated with the remains of a certain commissioner. Her blood had been oh so sweet. He had to give it to the lady. She didn’t scream once, which was good form considering all those whiny sniveling cops who begged for their lives _… yada… yada… yada._

He got the bright red phone (the same color as the commissioners blood _… ha_ ) off from it’s cradle and held it to his ear. The breathing on the other end was rushed… almost chaotic. Like a little rabbit gasping for air.

It had to be Harley.

“Long time no scare huh, Harls?” He purred into the receiver. “Or… if this is the pizza guy I ordered three hours ago and I will start to kill people for every minute it takes.”

He gave a good laugh at his own joke making sure it was loud enough to wake Babs next door. However, it was likely she was up in one of the suites with the Galavans… meddling around. _Just like mom._ He thought with a wistful smile. He couldn’t wait to watch the young woman die like his Ma as well.

“Jerome.” There it was. The meek little voice that barely even registered and sounded an awful lot like she had been screaming. That was very interesting indeed.

“Jerome.” He repeated in a mock impression of her scared tone. If this was where the conversation was going then he was considering just hanging up and killing her later. However, he had put so much time and effort into this little project that ending it so soon seemed lazy.

He heard her clear her throat as if sparking up the courage to even speak to him. So different from the brave doctor in training at Arkham. Almost like one of those little fancy eggs they used to present in the circus shops. So fascinating on the outside yet once cracked it was just open air. _Empty._ Jerome felt himself yawning.

“How did you get inside my hotel room?” She demanded. _Or… maybe not so empty after all._ Her voice sounded… different. Her words weren’t so carefully picked over anymore. The harsh grate of a new found accent invaded his senses.

It made him want to bite her tongue out.

“What me?” He lifted his hand to his chest as if she could actually see it. “I know nothing of the sort.” His giggle at the end must have provoked her even more as the hitch in her breath most definitely represented _anger. Oh baby…_

“Gotham City Motel,” she seethed. “Room 611. Ring any bells?”

“You know now that you mention it.” He took a seat on his bed and leaned back into the pillows. “I may or may not have pulled a few tricks with Babs. I get her a spot on the action in the G.C.P.D… she wears a maid outfit and sneaks into a hotel to lay a lovely message for you. Life is all about favors Harley.”

“You’re driving me insane.” She attempted to hide the choke in her voice, but he heard it loud and clear.

“We’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad.” His grin stretched to inconceivable proportions on his face.

“I’ve read the book.” She hiccuped.

“Party pooper.”

She giggled and _oh… oh wow._ He couldn’t help his human reaction at that. The slight jump in his senses and the dilation of his pupils. His blood picking up ever so slightly. The girl knew how to push his buttons.

“Do you only read books about people going crazy?” She asked. There was a certain lightness to her tone as if they were highschool sweethearts whispering over the phone so their parents wouldn’t hear. A cute image, but in Jerome’s opinion it needed a lot more murder to qualify as any sort of fun to him.

“I know my audience.” He said. “Speaking of, did you catch my show?”

“I-I saw you and uh… my ma tried to grab the remote from me and I… I tried to kill her.” She didn’t seem particularly bothered by the memory. _Hm… hm indeed._ Now that was just something wasn’t it? The same girl who had been crying at the bus was suddenly so cold. Even for a guy like him.

“Ah, mothers. Can’t live with em’ can’t bury a hatchet in their head. Or I guess you can.” He cackled and then paused slightly. “It seems like you’ve been having a bad day.”

“No thanks to you.”

“I mean a really _bad day._ Do you honestly think that all of this is happening because little old me?” Jerome’s eyes widened in the same innocent manner he used with the cops all that time ago. “All I did was talk. You didn’t have to listen.”

“Are you blaming me for this?” Her tone was hushed, but she would be yelling if she wasn’t technically in public. He wondered what she would do if she was in the room with him right now. Maybe try to kill him. Maybe hit him. Maybe choke him with her powerful gymnastic thighs. All thoughts proved a fun challenge.

“We can’t help who we are can we, _Harley Quinn?”_

The other side of the line went dead silent. She hadn’t hung up, but she wasn’t doing any talking either. It was almost as if she was holding her breath. Jerome wondered if she’d choke before he ever got a response.

“I am nothing like you.” It was hardly audible. She was terrified. _Not of him… no… everyone was scared of him._ She was frightened of herself. Could barely stand to look at her own reflection without seeing what he _sees_. What he’s _seen_ all along.

“Then why are you calling me?” He countered. “You like this and more importantly you like me. I think you and I are more **_alike_** than you give us credit for.”

“I haven’t done any of the things you do.”

“Oh, but you _wiiilllll._ You had a rough time Harley and that just gets worse. Think about the day you’ve had. Imagine a thousand more of those bad days. Most people just jump off a bridge, or start _drinking,_ or _whoring_. They quit and they frown, but don’t do anything about it. I’m just trying to make them smile again. In the end once they realize the **_unfair_** world they live in everyone is just like me. Think about it. Some other doctor has probably taken your oh so coveted position at Arkham. Doesn’t that make you mad… doesn’t that get your goat? Don’t you wish you could take that old hag Young and squeeze the life from her?”

“You’re wrong.” Her voice was quavering. He could practically feel her body shaking in fear of his words.

“You don’t sound so convinced of that.”

“You can’t just kill people when you don’t get your way!”

“Who says?” He commented casually. “The cops? How many folks do you think they killed when they got in the way? My mother got in the way too.”

“That’s… insightful.” Dr. Quinzel had come out to play after all. That wouldn’t do. Sure, it was fun for Arkham but he didn’t need her taking notes of words he’d probably forget he said the next day.

“Are you complimenting me, dollface?” He sighed happily into the phone. “People will say we're in love.”

“I also read that book.”

“Jeez, you ever go outside with all that reading?”

She yawned a little and _oh boy wasn’t that just adorable!_ Her inflictions were growing on him more than her uptight personality. It hinted to something more. Something buried deep beneath the professionalism and the scrutiny. Someone really fun was under that exterior.

“I want to see you in person.” She said matter of factly in response to his silence.

 _Oh… well._ That was surely a new turn of events. “I’m pretty sure Gotham’s Most Wanted is gonna be doing a special on me soon. Just catch me there.”

“Look Jerome… the only time I’m ever really sure about who I am is when I’m with you, which is pretty crazy.”

“Oh, not at all. You lived your entire life devoid of laughter and fun it only makes sense that I bring out the best in you.” He laughed so hard his body shook with just how unfortunate it was for the poor girl.

“I will hang up on you.” _Awww… she was bossing him already._ He’d slap her if it weren’t so damned cute.

“Well, it’s getting pretty late and a man does need his beauty sleep. I have a busy day ahead of me and I can't seem to fit you in my schedule. Nine o’clock kill dad. Ten o’clock kidnap magician. Eleven o’clock… oh! Well whaddya know Harls! There’s an eleven o’clock spot open and ready just for you.”

“Eleven o’clock.” She repeated slowly. “My house. You probably know where it is. Leave my parents out of it, J-”

He put the phone back into its cradle promptly cutting her off. Always good to end it with a scare. It would make her more likely to show up instead of turning _chicken_ and running off to live a boring doctor life without any fun. It really was the last chance for her and he had given her so many chances to turn back. He wasn’t even this kind to well anyone really. He knew sooner or later this Maniax stint needed to come to a close and having a few allies on the outside couldn’t hurt. Babs was a fine temporary sidekick, but she was nothing like him in the grand scheme of it all.

What he needed was a match. To crack the shell of someone and see if it was just air on the inside. He couldn’t be all talk and no walk. He had to prove that his ideals had ground or else there would be no joke! To turn a beautiful model student into another mirror of his image would scare Gotham enough to truly take him seriously. He already saw the city warming up to him with those lovely graffiti tributes and laughter in the streets. Hell, he’d even see lots of folks go ginger in his honor. However, it wasn’t enough. Jerome needed to show them that anyone at any time could become just like him. Or he’d have to change his shtick and that certainly wasn’t going to happen.

Rising from his place on the bed he made his way towards out of his own quarters to a room on his left. The Maniax had been given their own wing in the apartment and only four of those rooms were still occupied. Jerome doubted the rest will stay open for business for long.

He rapped on the big wooden door a few times and when he got no response he raised his foot to kick it down.

“Telegram!” He shouted when the door came flying from its hinges.

“Jesus christ!” It was clear Robert had been fast asleep before the ordeal with his door. He sat up in his luxurious bed while carefully pulling the sheets over himself to the point where he looked like a floating head. “This better be good, kid.”

“Oh, it is.” Jerome stalked closer to the cannibal with a grin that would give anyone nightmares. Robert’s gulp sent waves of satisfaction through him. “How would you like to kill Harleen Quinzel?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rejected jokes for this chapter
> 
> Jerome: Hello it's me  
> Jerome: You used to call me on my cell phone  
> Jerome: I'm at a payphone trying to call home
> 
> oH WOW WAS THIS CHAPTER SO FUN TO WRITE!!! I love any Jerome/Harley interaction and I just adore writing it!! Also some Joker ideology bc like the bad day theory is so freaking terrifying and I think that one of the Joker's main goals in seducing Harley was to prove this theory. He couldn't with Gordon so he'd do it with someone else. But all of the Joker's ideals are still in infancy so there are going to be some stumbles. 
> 
> Next chapter is gonna be the scene I've envisioned since I created this fic it's basically the pivotal scene! But with this comes bad news bc I'm gonna be on vacation so this fic is gonna take a week or two long pause (sorry in advance)
> 
> As for keeping Robert alive it's a small canon divergence that will make sense in the next chapter I know he's dead in the show.
> 
> Also pretty much every song by Halsey is Jerome/Harley and u can't tell me otherwise (hence the name of this fic being a Halsey song)
> 
> Please comment so we can discuss <3

**Author's Note:**

> If any of you are wondering who Dr. Penelope Young is she is a character in the game Batman: Arkham Aslyum and is characterized as a woman more focused on her career then the wellbeing of the patients. Thus, this chapter has a bit of a cold feeling to it.


End file.
